


LOVE'S FIERY TEMPEST ARC 4: Homecoming

by roryheadmav



Series: LOVE'S FIERY TEMPEST [4]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Highlander - Freeform, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2001-11-18
Updated: 2001-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:19:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryheadmav/pseuds/roryheadmav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos and Duncan return to where it all began -- Scotland. But once they arrive, they find the village of Glenfinnan being besieged by Vikings externally and by the evil machinations of Robert MacLeod and his fiancee Debra internally. And who's the mysterious hooded figure who has his sights set on Duncan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 50

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY**

 

The sun rose over the majestic peaks of the Highlands of Scotland, heralding a new spring day. A hawk screeched overhead, its wings stretched out as it soared through the clear blue sky. Rabbits scampered out of their burrows to gaze at the birds chirping in the trees.

Suddenly, there was a strange sound emanating from a meadow of tall grass, which sent butterflies of all shapes, sizes and colors fluttering out of the brush. One brave yellow butterfly hovered above the blades of needle grass, taunting the creature that lay hidden within the grass patch.

"YIP...YIP...YIP!" Chester leaped through the air, reaching for the pretty insect that had earlier tickled his nose and sent him sneezing. The butterfly, however, fluttered out of the reach of the open mouth and long, drooling tongue of the dachshund. This only caused Chester to leap higher and yip louder.

There was a chuckle coming from the elm tree, where their two Immortals sat under, enjoying a morning repast.

"The hills are certainly alive with the sound of Chester," laughed the Ancient.

This was followed by a snort of mild exasperation from his young lover. "If he barked any louder, it would probably bring the clans over here, thinking that the English have brought their hunting dogs with them."

"I seriously doubt if any Scot would consider poor Chester a worthy hunting hound though. I doubt if they would even take _him_ seriously."

"Keep your mouth shut, Old Man. The dog might hear you."

But Chester couldn't care less that his two masters were talking about him. So engrossed was the happy puppy in chasing the butterfly that he did not notice the stealthy approach of an equally small, but more menacing creature. Coal black eyes were riveted to the jumping sausage dog. Those same eyes flared with annoyance every time the dachshund jumped.

When Chester leaped for the butterfly once more, Moeru jumped as well, his hind hooves lashing out and kicking the poor dog. The dachshund fell squealing to the ground.

"What's going on over there?" The colt's ears perked up, hearing his young master call from the elm tree.

Pretending as if nothing happened, it was the mini horse's turn to bounce up and down in play, hoping to catch the yellow-winged insect. Moeru, however, underestimated the now very angry puppy.

As he jumped, Chester leaped as well. With a graceful somersault, the dachshund nipped the colt in the hind quarters, eliciting a "yip" of surprise from Moeru's mouth. For a moment, the two animals disappeared into the brush. Then, their heads lifted, glaring eyeball to eyeball, teeth bared as they growled. Suddenly, horse and dog charged at each other, grabbing a mouthful of the other's tail. Thus joined, a snarling Moeru and Chester started to spin around and around like a whirligig, sending grass, butterflies and all other types of insects flying.

"MOERU! CHESTER!" the Ancient Immortal yelled. "Damn it! Are you two fighting again?" But neither animal minded him.

In their determination to get even with the other, the two animals did not sense Thanatos and Denko ambling towards them. Nearing the babies, the stallions stopped, watching the colt and dachshund whirl around and around, like a spinning ring of red and brown hair. Glancing at each other, the elder horses snickered wickedly. For a few minutes, they observed the dizzying spin of the fighting younglings, waiting for the right moment. Finally determining the rhythm, Thanatos and Denko swiftly swooped down and pinched Moeru and Chester hard in their butts. As the stallions' teeth tightened on the skin of their behinds, the mini horse and the dachshund howled in surprise and pain.

"CHESTER! MOERU!" their Master called out sharply. "WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?"

The two babies dashed out of the brush, whinnying and yapping in misery, stampeding straight for their savior. The coins in the pouches hanging at their necks jingled with each step.

Lovely coffee brown eyes widened, seeing the thundering approach of the two distraught creatures. "Oh no! No you don't! DON'T YOU DARE!"

But the warning came too late, as both Moeru and Chester leaped onto his lap, sending him falling to the ground from their combined weight.

Methos burst into gales of laughter, seeing his lover struggle to sit up. Fixing the turban that had fallen askew on his head, Duncan MacLeod glared at the colt and dog. Both were wailing miserably, tears streaming from the corners of their eyes, tongues drooping from their mouths. Noticing the approach of Denko and Thanatos out of the corner of their eyes, to the concubine's shock, Chester and Moeru tried to squeeze their heads in between the buttons of his shirt. He yanked the two animals away before they could tear his clothes.

"Naughty boys!" Duncan scolded, clucking his tongue. "It's been five months and you still haven't gotten it through your heads. No more getting your din din from me." His chocolate eyes focused on the distinct wheals on their butts. With inquisitive brows raised, he turned to the two stallions. "What kind of mischief have these two been up to again?"

Thanatos' answer was to snort in disgust and make a fast whirling gesture with his head. Unfortunately, he was unable to stop that circular motion that Denko had to bop him on the brow with his chin. The poor war horse's eyes had crossed, dizzy.

"My faithful steed!" Methos began in surprise. "Are you telling me that you have finally met your match in these two younglings?"

Thanatos stared at his Master, shocked that he would even dare to suggest such a thing. Both he and Denko shook their heads. In retaliation, Moeru and Chester stuck their tongues out at the stallions spitefully, but quickly hid behind the concubine when the elder horses snapped at them with their teeth.

Urging the colt and the dog to face him, Duncan wagged a scolding finger at his beloved pets. "Now that wasn't very nice. You know neither Denko or Thanatos would punish you if you're not naughty. Unfortunately for you, you're always asking for it. If you two are not into some form of mischief, you're fighting."

Moeru's and Chester's lower lips jutted out in a pout. They were expecting sympathy, and perhaps even a taste of that lip-smacking milk, certainly not a scolding.

The whoremaster noticed that the two babies' eyes were avidly focused on a particular portion of his anatomy. Pulling his cloak around his chest, he declared, "Don't even think about it. Those days of my feeding you are long gone, Moeru. As for you, Chester, sorry to say you missed it."

There was a mischievous twinkle in the Ancient's eyes. "I hope this condition excludes me." Methos waved a bottle enticingly before the concubine's face. "I have a lot of that potion and Silas taught me how to make more if I ran out of it."

"Of course this condition INCLUDES you! God, you are worse than these two!" Duncan retorted, mortified that the elder Immortal would even suggest that he take the potion again. To his chagrin, the mini horse and the dachshund were nodding eagerly. "Now, look what you did! You've practically tempted them with the prospect."

The jingling of the animals' precious pouches caught the whoremaster's attention. "By the way, you two were successful in keeping your distance from me on the ship. Now that you're here, perhaps I could have a close look at those coin purses."

Before his fingertips could even graze a single pouch, Moeru and Chester made a quick escape, dashing between the legs of the two startled stallions. Thanatos and Denko raced after the runaways.

Methos gave his young lover a baleful glare. "Duncan, when are you going to quit harassing those two about the pouches that Silas made for them?"

"If I do not get a close look at those pouches," Duncan began, watching as the younglings gave their elders a merry chase in the meadow, "Caspian's Quickening will never give me peace."

Shaking his head, the Horseman remarked, "I seriously doubt if Caspian's cock is big enough to make two coin pouches."

"Human skin is like hide, isn't it? Doesn't it stretch a bit during the tanning process?"

Methos grimaced as he thought hard. "No. I don't think so. Duncan, I think you've been talking too much to old man Farouk and his tales of cannibals in Africa. Like I said, I don't believe that the skin in Caspian's rod would be enough to make two pouches."

"How could you be so sure? Have you actually seen Caspian's cock? Have you taken it inside your mouth or in your ass like I have? It felt too damned big if you ask me."__

_A soft, repentant voice spoke inside the concubine's head. "_I'm sorry."

Duncan blanched, completely forgetting the presence inside him. "It is I who must apologize to you, Caspian. It's not my intent to reopen old wounds. Don't worry. I'll try to find a way to get a close look at those pouches."

As Caspian's Quickening quieted down, there was the bubbling giggles of Mikey's life force. _"Oh, don't bother yourself too much with it, Duncan. He should be happy that his cock is now serving a much more useful purpose."_

The concubine smiled at that remark, breathing a relieved sigh. Mikey's Quickening certainly had a calming effect on Caspian. Lost in the sensations of the presences inside him, he did not notice that his lover was looking at him curiously.

"Duncan, I know something's bothering you," Methos went straight to the point. "You're just using yonder pets' precious coin pouches as an excuse to keep your mind of it." Giving the whoremaster a meaningful glance, he said, "You've returned to Scotland at last. Aren't you happy to be home after so many years?"

Duncan stood up and went towards the edge of the hill. Those months in the desert seemed like an eternity that it startled the concubine to see so much green and all other colors before his eyes. Everywhere he turned, he was surrounded by the colors of life. Raising his head, the highland breeze, so fresh and gentle, caressed his cheeks, not like the arid, gritty air of the Sahara. Closing his eyes, he caught the scent of heather and wild flowers, the pleasant aroma tickling his nostrils.

"Why shouldn't I be happy?" Duncan replied. "I'm surrounded once more by the beauty of nature and of life."

"But you're not happy, Duncan. Well, certainly not completely."

The whoremaster breathed out a sigh. There was no point in denying what was truly in his heart to the Ancient. "Who am I kidding? No matter how much I wish it to be so, this is no longer my home. I don't know why I allowed Ahura Mazda, Devi Mari and Mithras to convince me to return here."

"Perhaps because they are deities and they know what's best for you. You don't question the will of the gods."

"Is this truly what's best for me? As I stand here, gazing out into this beautiful place, the more I feel like I am a stranger in my homeland, even if so little has changed here in the years that I've been gone."

"That's because it is you who have changed. You're no longer the helpless little boy they banished from this land." Methos looked meaningfully at the younger man. "Duncan, I know what you truly fear -- the prospect of seeing your parents again."

The concubine smiled wanly. "Since when did you learn to read me like a book, love?"

"Maybe when we opened our hearts to each other -- learned to lose the hate and desire for vengeance, when we discovered the importance of trust, when we learned to love once more."

"Yes, we have learned and accomplished so much in so little time."

Methos got to his feet and went towards his lover. Wrapping his arms around Duncan's waist, he laid his chin on the young Immortal's shoulder. "What is there to fear, Duncan? You who are the true Champion of all humanity, who have faced and defeated Satan himself. None of your clansmen could make such a lofty claim, not even your father."

"I would bravely battle a thousand demons," the whoremaster began, "than face Ian MacLeod. Methos, I cannot do it."

"Is that the reason why you are still dressed like a Bedouin of the desert? Ready for a hasty retreat, I see."

"I only came because I wanted to see my home...one last time."

Unknown to Duncan, there was a sly grin on the Ancient's face. "Well, we're still far from Glenfinnan, and I doubt you could see it from here."

"Methos, haven't you been listening to a word I said? I'm not going to Glenfinnan. This view...this lovely view of Scotland is enough for me."

"I have been listening to you and what you said is that you wanted to see your home." Methos made the confused concubine face him. "Duncan, you know what your heart cries out for. That's why you're here. Don't let this opportunity pass you by."

"But Methos..."

The Ancient, however, continued, "It's been thirty years. You're a grown man now. Add your attire and your sun-bronzed skin, I doubt if your parents would recognize you."

Duncan knew immediately what the elder Immortal was driving at. For once, since they set foot on Scottish soil, blessed hope blossomed inside his heart.

"It won't be easy, you know that," he remarked, reminding Methos of the difficulties that lay ahead of them. "The Scots are not a very trusting people. They won't welcome us with open arms. There's also the possibility that my father might still recognize us, especially you. If I were in his place, I doubt if I could forget the face of the man whom he believes buggered his wee son."

"Well, I was innocent of that crime back then," A grin lifted on the right corner of Methos' mouth. "Although I certainly cannot make that claim now. Let me deal with your father in my own way. I have Immortality in my favor, remember? Even if he does still remember me, he would be expecting a much older man, certainly not someone who is as 'young' as I. It'll probably give his mind a bit of a good wracking, but he'll eventually come to realize that I couldn't be the man who buggered his heir. But what about your mother? Do you think she might recognize you?"

"I don't know." Duncan smiled at the fond memory of Mary MacLeod. "I'm hoping she would. It nearly broke her heart when my father and my clansmen banished me. That last time I saw her, I was riding on Silas' horse. I turned around and I saw her struggling in my father's arms. She broke free for a moment and ran towards us. She gave me a kiss and an embrace. Then, she turned around to face my father and my clansmen and she declared, more for their benefit than mine, 'Never forget who you are, my son. You are Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod'."

"A very brave woman, your mother. Does she know what truly happened?"

"I never got the chance to tell her. But I could see it in her eyes that she knew that I had a very good reason for doing what I had done. I also think that she knows that you are innocent of the sin of buggery that my father accused you of committing with me." Duncan closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his body. "Oh, you don't know what I would give just to feel my mother's arms around me again."

"Don't worry," winked Methos. "I'm sure you'll relish your mother's embrace soon enough. In the meantime, you'll have to content yourself with my hugs and kisses and all other garnishes that come with buggery."

"Speaking of buggery... HEY!" Duncan's eyes flew wide, unable to finish what he was going to say, as his attention was diverted to the very funny sight at the bottom of the hill.

Thanatos and Denko were sitting inside the rickety cart, snickering wickedly, their lips curling to reveal their teeth. Trying in vain to pull the cart loaded with the heavy stallions were a huffing and puffing Moeru and Chester, the ropes held inside their mouths.

"DENKO! THANATOS! What do you think you're doing?" the whoremaster stormed down the hill, gesturing furiously. "Get down from there! You two lugs are not babies!"

Methos giggled merrily as he watched his irate lover wave the two chastened stallions down from the cart. Furious that they were made to do hard labor, Chester and Moeru barked and whinnied in anger at the two horses. Swiftly, they got inside the cart, urging Thanatos and Denko to pull them. The response of the two stallions was to rear up on their hind legs, and their hooves crashed down on the edge of the cart. As the tiny wagon tilted violently, it catapulted Moeru and Chester right through the air, and landed right on top of Duncan.

Hearing the older Immortal roaring with laughter on the hilltop, the concubine bellowed, "Stop laughing, you old fool, and get these two off me!"

Breathless from laughter, Methos hurried down the hill and towards the younger man. He lifted the colt and the dachshund, who sat stunned on the whoremaster's body, stars twinkling around their heads.

"You were saying something, Duncan?" Methos began, helping his lover to his feet.

Duncan blinked at the Ancient in bewilderment. "What was I saying?"

Patiently refreshing the memory of his lover, Methos said, "You earlier began 'Speaking of buggery...' and then you ran off to deal with these equine and canine miscreants. So? What were you going to tell me?"

The concubine thought for a long moment. To the elder Immortal's dismay, Duncan's reply was a quick, "Sorry, but I don't remember," and he started to walk back up the hill.

Methos stared at the whoremaster aghast, knowing that the younger man was just being evasive. "Don't give me that, Duncan. I know you remember."

"Of course I remember! I have a very good memory!" the whoremaster called back with a wave of his hand. Uncomfortably, he continued what he was going to tell the Ancient. "I was going to say that, here in the Highlands, sodomy is...I wouldn't say exactly 'frowned' upon. That would be a major understatement. You saw for yourself how my father reacted when he saw us that night."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" the Ancient persisted in asking.

Duncan came to a dead halt. With a helpless flop of his arms, he turned to face his lover. "We're off limits to each other, Methos. To put it simply, if you want either of us to get out of this country alive, we cannot reveal to anyone what our true relationship is."

Methos felt his heart stop in his chest, suddenly realizing what the younger Immortal was trying to say. "Off limits? Then, this means that..."

Duncan nodded regretfully, although there was a glint of something like relief in his sweet doe eyes. "While we're here in Scotland, more so in Glenfinnan, we cannot make love. Definitely no sex." Saying this, he continued on his way up the hill.

The Ancient was caught speechless by that answer. Gazing at the heavens, he complained to the deities whom he knew resided there, "Why oh why did you tell us to come here? Is this your way of punishing me?" With a sorrowful shake of his head, Methos went after his beloved, muttering under his breath, "No sex...I mourn the loss already."


	2. Chapter 51

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE**

 

"Now stay close to me, little ones," Duncan gleefully admonished his beloved pets. "We are riding through the heart of Donan Woods, the most haunted forest in all of Scotland. No Scot would dare enter this forest at night, because they are certain to never leave it the following morning."

The concubine was having fiendish delight in frightening his two tiny charges who are riding in the cart that was hitched to Denko's saddle. Sure enough, Moeru and Chester were looking warily at their surroundings, their eyes black and brown marbles, wondering why, if it was haunted, they were traipsing through this dark forest at night. To add to their fears, the light of the lamp that Duncan was holding was casting wraith-like shadows that seemed to reach out and grab them. Except for their young master's good-natured storytelling, no sounds could be heard in this dreadful woods -- no chirping of birds or crickets, no rustling of animals in their burrows. No breeze blew through the leaves on the trees. Just that eerie silence. No, Donan Woods wasn't totally silent. There was a strange noise, like small bones being shaken. Facing each other, the midget horse and the dachshund realized that that noise was caused by the chattering of their teeth.

Duncan had heard that snappy clicking of teeth. Rather than stop, with an amused chuckle, he continued with his narration. "It's been said that an evil hermit haunts these woods. Like an ape he is, leaping from tree to tree, waiting to snatch an unwitting traveler off his horse. Once he captures his prize, he takes his hapless victim to his cave, where he kills him and eats his flesh."

Methos, who was trailing behind his happy lover, couldn't care less about the devilish hermit of Donan Woods. The poor Ancient was still lamenting the loss of those delightful trysts that had warmed not only those cool desert nights, but also his lonely heart. Already, he was miserably resigned to the fact that the only pleasure he could get while in these blasted Highlands would be through self-gratification. Truth be told, Methos was, at that moment, listlessly engaging in said pursuit, his hand pumping his grieving rod.

Thanatos stole a glance back at his Master and snorted in disgust. The expression on his face clearly said, "If you make a mess on me, I expect you to clean me up."

Duncan, however, was oblivious to the Ancient's dilemma, engrossed as he was in terrorizing the two babies. There was a wicked grin on his face as a brilliant idea struck him.

"So I want you to stay alert, Moeru, Chester," the whoremaster sternly ordered the younglings, although he was getting so close to bursting into laughter. "We must stick together. We don't know when that hermit is going to..."

Horrified squawks were elicited from the throats of Moeru and Chester when Duncan floated into the trees. The dachshund and the colt were at a loss on what to do. With terror reflected in their eyes, their heads moved in jerks as they searched desperately for their beloved master in the trees above them. In their fright, neither Chester nor Moeru noticed Denko shake his head at the gestures of the mischievous whoremaster. Neither did they sense the descent of a grinning figure in black behind them.

Swiftly, Duncan grabbed the babies' round rumps and cried "BOO!" at the same time.

The younglings' reaction was instant. Shrieking in terror, Chester and Moeru literally flew out of the cart and landed on the special riding platforms that Methos had constructed on Thanatos' saddle for such an occasion. The Ancient stared in shock at the two bawling babies who were cuddling up to him. In his surprise, his hand was actually frozen around his cock.

"Duncan?" Methos growled menacingly at his giggling lover. Waving to Moeru and Chester, who were wetting his good shirt with their tears, he inquired, "What is _this _about?"

"Just a harmless little prank?" Duncan said guiltily.

The erstwhile Horseman released his hold on his perpetually flaccid member and embraced the crying younglings, rubbing them soothingly. "I think you traumatized them for life, Little Whore. After this, I seriously doubt if Moeru would grow taller."

"Well, Silas believed that a good scare could add an inch or two to Moeru's height."

Methos grimaced at that answer. "Believe me, Duncan! His Chinese growth balls are more effective. What horrific tale of the macabre have you been telling these two anyway?"

There was a suspicious frown on the concubine's forehead as he went to take Moeru and Chester from the older Immortal. "I was telling them the story of the mysterious hermit of Donan Woods. Haven't you been listening to me?"

One by one, Duncan lifted the miniature horse and the dachshund from the platforms. It was only then that Methos realized that his cock was still exposed. Worse, his traitorous member immediately started to rise the minute the whoremaster's gentle doe eyes fell upon it. Duncan's brown orbs were as round as saucers at the sight of that impressive rod that was pointing eagerly to him.

"Oh, I see!" the concubine began with a raise of his brows. With Moeru and Chester cradled in his arms, he immediately turned his back on the flustered Ancient so that he wouldn't see the smile that curled up the corners of his full lips. "It seems the prospect of celibacy is weighing heavily on you."

"Celibacy? Are you saying it's permanent? It's not just abstinence?" Methos blurted out in dismay.

It took supreme effort on Duncan's part to hold back his mirth. Even the two babies were looking curiously at their Master as he put them back inside the cart, wondering what was funny.

The Horseman's eyes narrowed, seeing how his lover's body trembled from the strain of holding back his chuckles as well as noting the way Moeru and Chester stared at the younger man.

"Wait a minute! Why do I have to become a celibate?" Methos suddenly declared, causing the whoremaster to pause near the cart. "It's only your scrumptious assets that are off-limits. Just point me to the nearest whorehouse, MacLeod, and I'll take my business there."

That statement brought the desired effect. Before Methos could even blink, Duncan soared gracefully through the air and landed on Thanatos, facing the older man. There was a dark scowl on the concubine's face, jealousy clearly written in his chocolate eyes.

Grabbing Methos' shirt collar in his hands, Duncan shook him roughly. "You're NOT going to any old whorehouse! I'm NOT sharing you with anyone, do you hear me? You're mine, Methos! MINE!" He then yanked the startled Old Man towards him and gave him a bruising kiss on the lips.

Unfortunately, the Ancient's grip on his war steed was not as strong as his grip earlier on his cock. Before he could regain his seating, Methos slipped from Thanatos' back, taking an equally surprised Duncan with him. The two Immortals just found themselves rolling and tumbling down the hill. They landed at the bottom, dazed, with Methos twitching in pain.

Swiftly, Chester and Moeru hurried after their masters, with Thanatos following them. Denko took up the rear because he had to free himself first from the cart.

Reaching the two men, the babies rushed to Duncan's side, licking the younger man's face.

Although dizzy and still winded, the whoremaster managed to raise his hands and caress the heads of the colt and the dachshund. "I'm all right, my dear friends. Just give me a moment to catch my breath and for the world to stop spinning."

In the meantime, Thanatos and Denko were peering down at the cringing Ancient.

"What about me? I'm the one's who in terrible pain here!" Methos called out, his voice higher in pitch. Given the quickness of the concubine's response, he didn't have the time to stuff his privates back in the safety of his trousers. His sausage and his nuts in their thin bag ended up getting bruised and battered.

Moeru raised his head to gaze at the older man whose hands were gingerly cupping the prized appendages at his crotch. The miniature horse casually trotted over to Methos. Craning his neck down, he tentatively sniffed at the Ancient's crotch, puffing out air between his teeth.

Remembering the colt's fiendish talent for emasculation, Methos swiftly covered his prized jewels between his hands and crossed a protective thigh over them.

"Oh no you don't, Moeru!" the Ancient said warningly. "I know you've got coin purses running inside that devilish little head of yours. Why don't you look elsewhere, like under a damned Scotsman's kilt?"

"Hey!" Duncan exclaimed in offense. "Coin purse hunting is strictly prohibited in the Highlands, unless it's an Englishman or a Viking. I could only make exceptions for those two."

"Duncan, you're not supposed to encourage him, remember?"

"Well, you started it. If he's going to embark on a quest for more coin pouches, it would better be among the enemies of the Scots."

Hearing that remark, Methos let out a groan. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

Tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth, Chester decided to toddle over to his compatriot's side, who was still avidly eyeing the Ancient's shielded assets. Wanting to help Moeru out, the dachshund proceeded to nibble on Methos' fingers, trying to pry them off.

Fearing for his manhood, the Horseman started kicking his legs out and waving a hand. "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"

For a moment, the colt and the dog caught a glimpse of Methos' cock. Duncan snickered wickedly as the two babies looked at each other and shook their heads in disappointment. Together, they walked away and headed for a clump of bushes, leaving a surprised Old Man behind.

Noting the broad grin on the concubine's face, Methos demanded, "What's so funny, Duncan?"

"I...eherm...guess your beloved manhood is not big enough to make two coin purses." The minute he spat out that comment, Duncan roared with laughter.

"So you think that's funny, huh?" the Ancient retorted, stuffing his insulted member back inside his trousers. "You won't be laughing once I get my hands on you!"

There was a furious rustling in the bushes. Suddenly, Moeru and Chester ran shrieking from the brush. Before Duncan could get away, the two younglings dove at him again, sending him falling backwards to the ground.

At the sight of his lover struggling on the ground, pinned by the two terrified animals, it was Methos' turn to erupt into laughter.

"Now, THAT'S funny!" the Ancient chortled, clutching his aching belly.

When he was finally able to get Moeru and Chester off him, Duncan had a ready rebuttal for the older man. However, he was never able to speak what was on his mind when he saw what lay behind the bushes.

Noticing how pale his lover had become, Methos asked, "What is it? What's wrong?" But the younger Immortal couldn't answer, his lovely doe eyes wide with fear.

Turning, the Ancient grimaced, seeing the cause of the whoremaster's dread. Looking back at Duncan, he said, "It's just a cave, MacLeod."

"The hermit's cave!" Duncan muttered in shock. "I thought it was just a story meant to keep the children in line. I never thought.... Methos, let's get out of here! The hermit might come any minute and eat us!"

"Duncan..." Methos breathed an exasperated sigh. "You said so yourself. It's merely a story. Surely you don't believe that crap!"

"But, Methos, think about it very well. You've lived in the Highlands for nearly two years. I know that you and the other Horsemen have gone inside Donan Woods, but you've never found any caves. You've been telling the children of Glenfinnan that the hermit's cave did not exist. However, according to legend, there is a single cave hidden in Donan Woods, and that's it!"

"So there's a cave. So what?"

"Methos, the hermit could be in there right now. Or it might be out in the woods. If it sees us here..."

The Ancient gave the cave a dubious glance. "Well, it doesn't look like it has been lived in for centuries. Don't you see how the brush covers it almost completely? That means, no one has been going in or out of it."

"No human or animal, you mean. But we're talking about the hermit of Donan Woods. A monster! I'm telling you, you old fool! We must get out of these woods NOW!"

Methos glared balefully at his frightened lover. To his chagrin, the concubine, together with Moeru and Chester, were engaging in the chattering of teeth castanets.

Duncan was dismayed when his lover replied, "Well, I'm not going anywhere until I find out what's inside that cave. I have every intention of laying this hermit myth to rest."

"Don't be stupid, Methos! The hermit will eat you alive!"

"Let him eat me! With my Quickening, I'll give him a bloody bellyache for all eternity!"

Saying this, Methos grabbed his lamp from Thanatos' saddle. Impatiently pushing aside the bushes, he tromped inside the cave, mumbling and grumbling along. Duncan watched breathlessly as the light of the lamp slowly began to dim as his lover went deeper inside. In minutes, he couldn't see anything at all.

The whoremaster reached out to pat Thanatos' flank, who along with Denko, had taken defensive positions around the young Immortal and the two babies.

"Your Master is a fool, Thanatos," Duncan commented in mixed awe and dread. "But a very brave one, I could tell you that." He peered through that dark maw, but he couldn't make out anything inside. "Damn it! What's taking him so long? Denko, why don't you go in after him?"

Denko gazed at his Master as though he were insane. The stallion quickly shook his head. Before Duncan could give a pleading glance to Thanatos, the war steed looked away as well.

Turning to Moeru and Chester, the whoremaster inquired, "What about you two? I know you're very brave, Moeru. Why don't you go inside and check on Methos? If the hermit's there, you have my wholehearted permission to take his cock. I'll even be very happy to make nice coin purses for you and Chester."

The midget horse and the dachshund gaped at their Master, shocked that he would even dare make that suggestion. Swiftly, they abandoned Duncan's side to hide between the legs of the two stallions.

"COWARDS!" the concubine hissed in anger. "Well, I'm not going in there. I already warned him, and that's that. If he had any sense in him, he'd come right out."

As ten minutes flew by with no sign of the elder Immortal, the whoremaster began to worry. Already, a disturbing image of Methos skewered on a large tree branch being roasted on an open fire was running through his mind.

"Damn you, Methos!" Duncan pulled out his sword, as he stood up. In his trembling hands, his katana shook violently. "If the hermit hasn't munched on your measly carcass, I'll chop you into bite size pieces and serve you to him myself."

Swallowing hard, the whoremaster made one nervous step towards the cave, then another step, and another. Following close at his heels were the four petrified animals.

Just as he was about to make another step forward, a blood-curdling scream reverberated from the cave, causing Duncan to almost jump out of his clothes. Thanatos and Denko made a hasty retreat into the bushes, leaving behind Moeru and Chester, who had fainted and fallen on their backs, legs raised stiffly in the air.

Concern for the Old Man took precedence over fear. Calling out the Ancient's name, Duncan rushed inside the cave. The concubine stumbled through the rocks and the darkness, searching and groping desperately for his lover. In his fright, he did not sense the aura of the grinning figure that was waiting for him in the cavern.

The minute Duncan stepped into the main chamber, Methos wrapped his arms around the young man's waist. But the concubine believed that it was the evil hermit of Donan Woods who held him. With an angry cry, Duncan pulled free, swinging his sword at the same time. His eyes flew wide in horror, seeing the startled face of his lover in the dimmed light of the lamp. Thankfully, he was able to check his swing, the blade stopping just beneath Methos' chin.

"Damn it, you old fool!" Duncan furiously lowered his katana, his heart pounding in his chest. "Do you know that I damn near took your head?"

"Yes," Methos nodded, his face a ghastly white as he clutched the spot where the blade had almost nicked him. "I could see that."

The concubine fumed and frothed at the mouth, pacing back and forth. "Do you know that you scared me half to death? I thought that the hermit had captured you, or worse, taken your head."

Methos smiled at the obvious concern in the younger man for him. "I'm so happy to see you cared for me, MacLeod."

Before Duncan could spout off a vile retort, he slipped on something and fell face first on the dirt floor. As he eased up on his elbows from the ground, he found himself face to face with a skull. With a cry of surprise, the whoremaster practically leaped into Methos' arms.

"For someone who had faced the Devil," the Ancient mused, grinning at his blushing lover, "I never thought you'd be frightened by a skull."

"It caught me by surprise!" Duncan said defensively. "I'm not afraid of a skull!"

Carefully lowering the younger man, Methos picked up his lamp to illuminate the grisly scene of a man's mortal remains. Solemnly, he announced, "Here's your dreaded hermit of Donan Woods, Duncan."

The concubine inspected the bones closely. "Looks like he's been dead for years now. But how..." Duncan's eyes rested upon the rusted sword that was sticking out of the wall, its blade in a horizontal position. He looked at the sword and then at the skull, to which was still attached a few vertebrae. Seeing the smooth cut a the neck, a frown furrowed his brow. "Methos, this man..."

The Horseman nodded. "Yes, he took his own head. I have reason to believe that this poor fellow was Immortal."

"But why? Why would he do this?"

Methos pointed to the strewn pile of divining bones not too far from the dead hermit. "If I read those bones correctly, they told him that he didn't have to wait any longer, that the avatar had come and will defeat the evil."

"WHAT?" The whoremaster shook his head in confusion. "I think you're mistaken. Are you sure you're reading those bones correctly?"

The Ancient, however, took his lover's hand and led him to the inner part of the cave. Duncan's jaw dropped at the sight of the chalk paintings on the wall. Despite the crude, nearly faded lines, the paintings depicted a battle between men with spears and what looked like the fierce visage of a demon. However, in the next scene, there was a drawing of a tall man with rays being emitted from his being. The following scene had the tall man standing face to face with the demon. Although the actual battle was not shown, the last painting had the tall man, apparently the champion, surrounded by kneeling figures.

"Does this look familiar to you?" Methos inquired with a raise of his brows.

"I can't believe it!" the concubine gasped. Gingerly, he raised a hand to the paintings but was afraid to touch them. "How did he know all this?"

"I believe the Immortal's a seer. Not only that, I think he himself was supposed to face the demon in the event that you hadn't come or succeeded in defeating it. He was to be humanity's next champion."

"But I defeated Ahriman in Ain Mehira..."

"Which means, as the bones had told him, that there is no reason for him to wait."

"He didn't have to kill himself. He could've gone on living."

"Unfortunately, his purpose for living was to battle the evil that was threatening humanity."

Deep sorrow and regret filled Duncan's heart for this unknown Immortal. Gazing at the bones once more, he whispered, "I'm sorry," and offered a prayer to the dead man's spirit.

Methos was charmed by the grief and respect that his lover accorded the Immortal's earthly remains. However, he doubted if the concubine would still be mourning this man once he sees the other thing that the Ancient had discovered.

With a wicked smirk on his lips, the Old Man placed his hand on the whoremaster's shoulder. "Come with me. There's something else I want to show you."

Nodding, Duncan followed the elder Immortal into the inner chamber. The first thing that caught his attention were the furs strewn on top of a stone slab. It was apparent to him that his served as the hermit's makeshift bed. Still, he found it curious that there were four iron rings on each corner of the bed. Chains with manacles on the ends were linked to the rings. Before he could voice his observation to the older man, his gentle doe eyes widened at the sight of the paintings that literally covered the walls of the chamber.

Noticing the slack-jawed expression on the concubine's face, Methos chuckled, "Looks like the hermit of Donan Woods was a menace after all."

"A menace to decent sensibilities, if that's what you mean," Duncan retorted in grievous offense. "My God! The man is a pervert of the first order!"

"Hah! The man's a genius!" the Ancient rebutted in fiendish glee. "I guess living alone for all these centuries has given him not only the Gift of Foresight, but the talent for sexual innovation."

Indeed, the cave was filled with paintings depicting human-like figures -- whether singly, in pairs or in groups of five to ten -- in a myriad variety of exotic sexual positions. Some even showed humans engaging in sexual congress with what definitely appeared to be beasts.

"Dear Lord!" Duncan exclaimed in mixed awe and abhorrence. "These paintings look like those Hindu wall sculptures in India. Look at this one." He pointed to a picture of a man bent over a woman, whose two feet he pressed upon the conical protuberances that were her breasts to form a rough circle. "This one is called _Ratisundara_ or 'Aphrodite's Delight'." The whoremaster pointed to another drawing of a seated woman with one foot, supported by her hands, pointed vertically over her head, while her lover thrusts inside her. "This position is called 'The Peacock' or _Mayura_."

"Why, Duncan! I never believed you to be quite an expert on the _Kama Sutra_."

"And 'The Perfumed Garden' and the _Ananga Ranga_ and an infinite host of others."The concubine glared balefully at the elder Immortal. "I was a whore, remember? But what Kamir made me study in detail were the wall sculptures. That fresco contained details on just about everything that is sexual, including masturbation, orgies, bestiality and rape." Waving a hand to the paintings covering the walls, he commented in disgust, "But many of these paintings are much worse! Some of them look like grappling octopuses. You could barely make out the head from the arms and the legs."

Methos strolled towards the bed, a thoughtful expression on his face. Leaning against it, he crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head. "Duncan?" he asked softly. "Are you in a hurry to go to Glenfinnan?"

"Of course not! You know I'm not looking forward to seeing my father again," Duncan hastily blurted out. "I'm still of two minds about it. The urge to turn back is still very strong and..." Seeing the eager smile that lit up the Horseman's face, he gazed suspiciously at his lover. "Why are you looking so happy all of a sudden?" After a long pause, realization struck the whoremaster. At once, he shook his head and both hands as he made to leave the cave in a hurry. "Oh, no! No, you don't! The answer is definitely 'no'!"

The Ancient quickly tailed the younger man. "How could you answer 'no' when you don't even know what I'm going to say?"

Whirling, Duncan faced his lover. "But I do know what you're going to say!" He even poked a finger at the elder Immortal's temple. "What you've got in that dirty mind of yours is clearly reflected on your handsome face!"

"I'm handsome? Why, thank you, Duncan, for that wonderful compliment!"

"Don't change the subject. You don't need a mind reader to find out what's inside your head. Here! Let me guess." Laying his hand on the crown of Methos' head, Duncan closed his eyes and intoned, "I would like to invite Duncan to try out all the positions that the hermit had drawn on the walls of his cave." His eyelids snapping open, he asked daringly, "Am I right or am I wrong?"

"But, love, is it too much to ask for a few days delay?" Suddenly, Methos dropped down to his knees, his pleading hands gripping his beloved's trousers. Because the Ancient was practically pulling his trousers down, the whoremaster struggled to yank them back up. "Please, Duncan!" the older man begged, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. "You cannot impose this abhorrent celibacy upon me. Mere men have been driven insane by long months of self-gratification."

"Methos, for heaven's sake, don't be so melodramatic. It will be good exercise for your wrists and your neglected boner."

"But if I shake it too hard, and I most probably will out of longing for you, it might come off. Think about it, MacLeod. Would you like to see my precious manhood dangling from the necks of a midget horse and a wiener dog?"

Those blasted coin pouches again. Duncan breathed an exasperated sigh. The Old Man certainly was a master of persuasion, using the one issue that still wrankled his young lover.

"All right! All right! I give up!" the concubine surrendered at last with a stomp of his feet. "What do you want to do?"

A mischievous grin quirked up Methos' lips as he released his hold on the whoremaster's legs, twisted on his butt and assumed a Lotus position in one move. He gazed at the paintings once more. "Well, I was thinking that we should try everything, but... Obviously, we can't have an orgy with just the two of us, unless you want..."

"No bestiality!" Duncan swiftly cut in before the Ancient could even suggest it. "You're a fool to even think about it!"

"Oh, very well!" Methos remarked in mock resignation, eliciting a fierce glower from his lover behind him. Looking at the drawings, the Ancient scratched his head. "Now, where should we start? So many choices!"

"You do know that we'll end up with aching backs, stiff necks, and cramped limbs if we go through the paintings one by one."

"We're Immortals. We'll survive. Keep quiet for a minute, Little Whore, and let me think. With so many excellent choices, it's so difficult to decide."

Duncan's chocolate orbs focused on a particular set of drawings. At once, a twinkle of mischief sparked in his lovely doe eyes.

Innocently, he pointed to the paintings and remarked, "How about these, Methos? These positions look very interesting."

"Yes," the Ancient nodded in approval, enticed by the images of long limbs entwining. "They do indeed!"

"If I remember correctly, they are the positions in the _Samputa_ group. But I prefer to call them 'locking techniques'." As Duncan blissfully chattered away, tracing the drawings with his finger, he didn't notice the dark scowl that creased Methos' brow, who had recognized that word. One by one, the concubine pointed to the paintings. "This one here's the 'Jewel Case' or _Samputa_, where the male and female make love side to side. Thigh strength is very important for _Veshtita_ and _Pidita_, the 'Entwined' and the 'Squeeze' respectively. Now this one's my absolute favorite -- the 'Mare's Trick' or _Vadavaka_, wherein you trap your lover's rod within the heat of your own flesh and squeeze it to a pulp like an orange. All in all, these techniques are perfect to use for men with small penises." Turning around to face his now fuming lover, Duncan said cheerfully, "What do you say, Methos? Let me try these on you first."

With a snarl, Methos yanked Duncan's trousers down to his ankles. Gripping his lover's long legs, he pulled the shocked younger man into his lap. Taking out his fully erect member and poking it at the enticing crevice between the whoremaster's buttocks, he demanded, "Does this feel small for you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?"

Timidly, the concubine answered, "No, but..." Whatever else Duncan was going to say flew out of his mind as Methos' rod of passion thrust hard and deep into his velvet channel. In its passage, the head pounded against his pleasure point. With shivers of delight running through his body, all Duncan could say was a passionate "YES! OH, YES!"


	3. Chapter 52

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO**

 

A good two hours have passed before Thanatos and Denko decided to peek from behind the trees they were at. All was quiet once more, with absolutely not sign of both their masters, who were probably still inside the cave. With caution, the two stallions emerged from their hiding place and trotted over to the spot where the babies still lay. Seeing the ridiculous posture of Moeru and Chester, they were about to snort their disgust when a devilish little idea crossed both their heads.

Whickering softly, the war steeds wondered if the youngling's wee dingles would be sufficient to make coin purses for _them_. Sharing tooth grins, the stallions snickered as they concurred that there was only one way to find out. Thanatos and Denko bent down, carefully nipped the tuft of hair at the tips of the babies' privates between their teeth and pulled.

The mini horse and the dachshund instantly awoke, yelping in pain. Leaping to their feet, the younglings furiously chased the two stallions back into the forest. Before they could leap through the bushes after their mischievous elders, they skidded to a halt at the sound of voices coming from inside the cave.

For a moment, neither Moeru or Chester could move, afraid that what they had heard was the dreaded hermit of Donan Woods.

"Methos, stop bouncing like a monkey!" Duncan loudly complained. "You'll break both my neck and my back."

Curiosity getting the better of them, the dog and the horse nodded to each other and sneaked inside the cave. As they neared the inner chamber, the two babies almost jumped out of their hides when they heard their young master cry out once more. Swiftly, they hid behind a large boulder.

"Damn it, Methos! If you don't stop, I'm going to drop you. You're getting too damned heavy with the way you keep bouncing up and down. This is not how you perform _Avalambitaka_."

Huffing and puffing, Methos rebutted, "If only you stop moving your hips so that I could take you inside me, you'll see that this is the right way to do it."

Chester and Moeru raised their heads to peek at what their masters were doing. Their mouths dropped open at once at the scandalous sight before them.

Duncan was leaning against the cave wall. Clinging to him, with pale limbs enclosing his neck and waist like a libidinous ape, was a grunting Methos. Both Immortals were as naked as the day they were born, with the Ancient trying desperately to capture the whoremaster's dwindling erection within the heat of his flesh. Frustrated by the futility of this exercise, Duncan released his grip on the Old Man's buttocks and dumped him, bare-assed, to the ground.

"Why did you do that for?" Methos complained, rubbing his smarting behind.

The concubine crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. "Methos, we've wasted over an hour just trying the standing positions. If you'll only trust me, I promise you could lift me, with absolutely no back strain."

"Just by looking at you, I know you're heavier than I am."

"Well, it's your idea to try them out in the first place. Remember, I have more experience than you do."

"I'm just out of practice, MacLeod. After all, it's been almost a millennia or two since I was a prostitute."

"There's no point in continuing this if you're out of practice. Let's just continue on our way to Glenfinnan so we could have a decent night's sleep in the village." As Duncan bent down to pick up his clothes, he added, "Of course, this means that you'll have to remain celibate for the duration of our stay here."

"Duncan..." The Horseman spoke behind him.

"Hummm?" the whoremaster turned to find his lover gazing at him tenderly.

"I know what you once were, Duncan," Methos began softly. "Now that you're free, it is not my intention to...use...you the same way I had in the past. I want it to be different this time -- that I could give you pleasure the same way you had me."

A warm smile went up the corners of Duncan's lips. "What we have between us...it's not just a simple give-and-take type of relationship. If I desire it, I would take the dominant role from time to time. But at this point, I am more comfortable to assume the submissive position. Besides, Methos, I know now that you won't hurt me." Leaning against the wall once more, he lifted an inviting hand to the Ancient. "Shall we try again and, this time, let's do it right."

For a moment, Methos pressed his right hand to his lips, as though yawning. When he stood up and went towards his lover, there was a pursed smile on his face. Embracing the concubine, he pressed his mouth to those full lips. When Duncan's sweet lips parted to accommodate his lover's questing tongue, instead intoxicating fluid filled his mouth, savoring it first on his own gustatory organ before swallowing it all.

Grimacing, Duncan inquired, "Methos, did you just make me drink the potion again?"

"Do you mind?" Methos asked in turn, nuzzling at the throbbing artery of the younger man's neck.

Tilting his head to the side, the whoremaster sighed, "No, I don't." He then drew up his right leg, letting the heel rest behind the Ancient's knee. "Shall we try _Traivikrama_?"

Methos forcefully pulled Duncan into his embrace, thrusting into that waiting orifice. Hearing that luscious gasp, he answered, "It sounds absolutely scrumptious."

Before he surrendered himself fully to the sensual delights that the concubine had in store for him, Methos managed a secretive glance to the two babies, whom he had earlier seen dart behind the rock. A grin curling up his lips, he gave Moeru and Chester a discreet 'okay' sign. The colt and the dog beamed, happy that they're needs were not forgotten. Their tongues drooling, they anxiously awaited the tasty treat that they've missed for several months now.

 

Hours passed. With awe and fascination, Moeru and Chester tilted their heads this way and that as their masters assumed body twisting, bone-breaking contortions that it was difficult for them to distinguish which leg or arm belonged to whom. At one point, when the concubine and the Horseman assumed the Number 70 position, the two babies came almost close to approaching the two men to marvel at how they were able to accomplish the amazing feat of devouring each other's members whole. At first, the colt and the dachshund thought that it was a waste of good coin pouches. But when the Immortals released each other's cocks, the two younglings breathed a relieved sigh. Both the horse and the dog, however, were anticipating something else.

It was in the early hours before dawn when the lovers decided to try another novel position. This time, Methos was seated on the makeshift bed, his legs dangling over the edge, with Duncan on his lap. The whoremaster was gracefully leaning back against the older man, his arms supporting him to lessen his weight. This gave the Ancient enough space to thrust upwards into his beloved's heavenly channel. With his free hands, he fondled and massaged the concubine's swelling chest, pinching the wine-colored nipples to tautness. Chester and Moeru found themselves licking their lips, waiting for that telltale drop of white to form on the tiny tips.

What Methos did, however, was to take two small clamps. Before his lover could spurt the juices from his breasts, the Ancient pinched his tits with the tiny pincers. To add to Duncan's trepidation, Methos' expert hands fluttered down to squeeze his rising cock to a full, painful erection. Rather than give the younger man the release he desired, took a strip of leather and tied it tightly around the base of both the whoremaster's rod and scrotum.

"Methos, no!" Duncan wailed in despair, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes as the Horseman plundered his bruised channel. "Please let me come!"

The Ancient's answer to that desperate cry was to come himself, shooting his seed into the scorching furnace of the concubine's ass. Overwhelmed by unfulfilled release, Duncan fell into a swoon, sagging like a rag doll into his lover's embrace.

Smiling, Methos lifted his lover's unconscious form onto the bed, and secured his wrists and ankles to the manacles. At last, he turned to the two younglings, waving them over. Eagerly, Moeru and Chester went towards the bed, with Methos gently hoisting them onto the furs, positioning them on opposite sides of that heaving, swollen chest.

"Be gentle, little ones," the Ancient admonished them as he quickly removed the clamps, before positioning himself between Duncan's splayed legs, untying the leather cord.

Although his mind had deserted him, the concubine instinctively bucked as three ravenous mouths captured his aching nipples and his erect cock. Gasping and panting, Duncan moved in graceful undulations, alternately arching his chest and his hips upwards, begging for his sensitive flesh to be licked and laved by snaking tongues. Watching his lover move, it reminded Methos of that first encounter he had with the whoremaster -- lying on a bed, his entire body covered by a silken sheet tacked to the corners of the bed. But that memory was only fleeting, as his attention was diverted by the rod of tempered flesh waving before his eyes. Before he pressed his lips to that bulbous tip, Methos grinned, seeing Moeru and Chester eagerly suckling on those engorged nipples. After this, the Ancient decided, he definitely would have a taste of the young man's intoxicating juices once more.

The minute he swallowed Duncan's cock whole, his lover came with full force, his come gushing into Methos' mouth like a torrent. Ravenously, the Old Man took in gulp after gulp of that barren seed, his throat muscles tightening convulsively around the throbbing shaft, squeezing out all the fluids. Taking a peek forward, he saw that milk had splattered on the faces of the two babies from that tremendous orgasm. Still, Chester and Moeru continued to lap up the sweet juice that spurted freely from those rose nipples.

When at last he was spent, Duncan fell back limply onto the bed. Tired himself, Methos let his lover's cock slide out of his mouth. It amused him to see that the younglings were still feeding from those luscious tits. Smiling, the Ancient decided to let Moeru and Chester continue at what they were doing, even though he knew that the concubine would be complaining of painful breasts in the morning. Crawling towards the sleeping young man's face, Methos sweetly kissed Duncan's lips. He was immediately rewarded by a satiated smile on that handsome face.

Getting down from his bed, his knees nearly buckling from exhaustion, Methos reached for his cloak and pulled out the journal that was inside its pocket. Taking one of his pencils, the settled down beside the lamp and proceeded to capture on paper the sensual drawings of the hermit of Donan Woods.

 

"Methos, I can't understand why my nipples hurt so much. One would think that you've been chewing on them like gum. They're so tender, my tits feel like I've breastfed two children."

It was great effort on the Ancient's part to hide the smile on his face. Taking the salve that he had prepared, he went towards the younger Immortal who sat against the cave wall, rubbing his aching breast. Sure enough, Duncan's nipples were a rich dark red color. It was apparent to Methos that Moeru and Chester certainly got what they were waiting for. Taking a dollop on his fingertip, the Old Man touched a tiny nub, eliciting a wince from his lover.

"Careful," Duncan requested. "It really hurts."

With tender loving care, Methos rubbed the sweet-smelling salve on the concubine's tits. Feeling its cool, soothing effects, Duncan sighed in relief, jutting out his chest into the older man's healing hands.

Although he had yet to taste the whoremaster's juices, Methos commented with a smile, "I always knew that you tasted so damned good."

"But did you have to abuse my nipples so much?" Duncan smiled as well, a rosy glow rising in his cheeks. "Still, I don't mind it one bit. I think you gave me too much of the potion. My chest keeps on filling with milk that it gets very painful."

"Is it painful now?"

The concubine reluctantly nodded. "Maybe I should think about feeding Moeru and Chester for a few days. Then again, the more they suckle from me, I doubt if I will ever stop producing milk."

To Methos' chagrin, at the sound of their names, the midget horse and the dachshund scampered out of their hiding places, broad smiles on their faces and long tongues drooping from the corner of their mouths. As Duncan eyed the two babies with suspicion, he immediately noticed that their bellies were heftier than usual.

Turning accusing doe eyes to his lover, he exclaimed, "You've been letting these two feed from me, haven't you?"

The Ancient couldn't answer. Instead, he gazed up at the ceiling, trying in vain to appear innocent.

Duncan let out a snort. Appalled, he declared, "No wonder my nipples terribly. You've taken advantage of me while I lay unconscious and exhausted. What else did you do to me?"

Chester and Moeru turned their dark eyes towards the Horseman before pointing to their young master's member, that lay in repose on his thigh.

"Oh, I see!" the whoremaster remarked, pouting. "You three decided to make a feast out of me."

"But Duncan..." Methos began in an apologetic tone. "When we saw you lying on the bed, looking so sweet, so delicious, we just couldn't help ourselves." Defensively, he added, "However, I was not the cause of your nipples sorry condition. It's the fault of these two."

The midget horse and the dachshund glared balefully at the Old Man, their eyes clearly saying, "You encouraged us, remember?"

"So I guess that means you haven't had the chance to sample my juices yet," the concubine said with a grimace.

"Yes," Methos sadly admitted. "But I won't press it if you don't want to."

Duncan breathed in deeply as he turned his attention to the paintings on the cave walls. "From what I could see, I don't think we've finished all of these positions yet. Probably less than one third, am I right?"

Methos frowned, looking at his lover suspiciously. "Yes?" He dared not venture anything else.

"Since the effects of the potion you gave me would definitely last more than three days, I thought maybe we could stay in this cave a little longer. Give you, and these two little gluttons, the task of emptying my aching chest."

The Ancient immediately brightened at that suggestion. "That's a great idea!" Even Moeru and Chester were nodding eagerly.

Duncan, however, waved a warning finger before their eyes. "However, if you want to feed from, I insist that you be more gentle with me. My nipples are not chew toys."

"How gentle would you like me to be?" Taking the surprised concubine in his arms, Methos lovingly kissed a tiny nub. "Like this?" A touch of a tongue elicited a moan from the whoremaster's lips. "Or like this?" A snaking lick of that areola, and his lover almost melted into his arms. "Or do you want something like this?" Playfully, Methos nipped a tit between his teeth.

Duncan's frustrated reply was expected. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" Embracing the older man, he pulled Methos' face towards his tender nipples and cried, "Suck me, Methos! Suck me hard!"

 

Except for brief rides into the forest to forage for food, the two Immortals kept their movements, sensual and otherwise, confined to the hermit's cave. If they were not learning the sexual arts together, Methos would be sitting beside his lamp, capturing those drawings on paper for all eternity. By the evening of the sixth day, they had accomplished the formidable task of performing the hermit's sensual designs, even the others that they thought they could not do as a pair.

The seventh day, at last, was their day of rest. After a noon repast of rabbit, the two men lay side by side on the bed, facing each other. Between them, snoring lightly, were Moeru and Chester, who had earlier partaken of the bounty from the concubine's breast.

Raising a finger, Methos traced the fine features of his lover's face, lingering over the pillows of his lips. The light of love glowed from those sweet brown doe eyes.

"Welcome home, Duncan," the Ancient whispered to his beloved.

Duncan reached out and took Methos' hand, kissing the fingertips. "Whether it be Scotland, the desert or anywhere else," he muttered huskily, "home is where you are, Methos."

Pulling the concubine closer so that he could lay a proprietary arm over that shapely thigh, Methos smiled warmly and said, "I love you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

To this, Duncan answered as well, "And I love you, Methos."


	4. Chapter 53

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE**

 

"Duncan, might I offer a suggestion? You know, you don't have to enter Glenfinnan dressed like a ragamuffin of the desert."

"What's wrong with my attire? These are very fine clothes, gifts from Ismail. The Sultan is known for his impeccable taste when it comes to his wardrobe."

"Yes, but when in Scotland, wear what the Scots wear. You look mighty fine in a kilt."

The whoremaster reined Denko to a halt and turned to glower at his Ancient lover. "Why don't you just admit that a certain portion of your anatomy wants to worm its way under my kilt?"

Methos' eyes twinkled with mischief and desire. "Why, Duncan! Are you saying it's true that you Scots don't wear anything under your kilts?"

Duncan, however, was not falling for that shameless baiting. "Sex, sex, sex! Aren't you tired of it? That was all we did for an entire week! I was hoping that you'd burned out all that carnal energy."

"I'm Immortal. I revive easily."

This all too familiar reply elicited a snort of disgust from the younger man. "Something must be done about your overactive libido, Methos. My poor bum, not to mention my aching nipples, couldn't take much more punishment."

Then, the concubine's narrowed, hearing a soft whicker and a whine of protest behind him. He looked at the tiny figures inside the cart behind him, who were obviously much heftier in the belly than before. Noticing their young Master's lovely brown orbs focused on them, Moeru and Chester gave him toothy grins. To Duncan's chagrin, the babies even burped noisily.

Groaning, the whoremaster told the younglings. "Don't think you're off the hook, Chester, Moeru! This time, I'm going to do something about your appetites for my milk. I can't believe Methos allowed you to nurse from me while we were..." Duncan closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I don't even want to think about it. It's just too indecent!"

"Could you blame me? I felt sorry for our little ones, that they were being deprived of your delicious milk." Turning to Moeru and Chester, Methos asked, "Tell me, boys. Did you see anything?"

Knowing immediately what his older Master was hinting at, the midget horse assumed a dumb expression on his face and blinked innocently. The same could not be said for Chester though, who is not really all that bright in the head. The dachshund smiled broadly and made licking gestures with his large, drooping tongue. He even demonstrated Methos' bassy belch after the Ancient had consumed mouthfuls of the concubine's nether fluids.

Duncan was absolutely scandalized. "That's disgusting!" Pointing to the babies, he ordered, "You two! Out of the cart now! You've grown too fat. You need exercise to get the bulges out of your mid-sections."

The grin vanished from Chester's mouth, especially when he saw the fierce scowl on Moeru's face. With a frightened yip, the puppy jumped out of the cart and made a quick dash up the sheep path, with a furious pony in hot pursuit.

"When I said 'exercise', I didn't mean you should run," Duncan yelled after the younglings. "Moeru! Chester! Damn it, come back here!" Glaring at the Ancient, he said, "This is all your fault, you old pervert!"

"Excuse me!" Methos countered defensively. "I wasn't the one who told them that they needed the exercise!"

Gritting his teeth, the whoremaster urged Denko onwards with a flick of the reins. "After this, there'll be no sex for you, you dirty old Horseman!"

"You keep on saying that, MacLeod!" Clicking his tongue as a signal for Thanatos to follow, the Ancient called after his lover, "How long are we going to stay in Glenfinnan anyway?"

The two Immortals hurried after the runaways, reaching the end of the woods. However, as they emerged from the forest, they quickly reined their horses to a halt.

In the valley below them, a skirmish was raging between a small army of Scots and a group of bloodthirsty Vikings. It was apparent to them that the Highlanders were greatly outnumbered by their adversaries. There was no question as to who would win this battle in the end.

Methos laid a hand on his lover's shoulder. "I don't think Moeru and Chester would be foolish enough to go through that." When the younger man remained silent, he knew instantly what was on Duncan's mind. "There's nothing we can do. We can't just waltz in there. The better option for us is to go around them."

"But Methos..." Duncan whispered as he looked at those kilts. "Those colors..." Then, the concubine's doe eyes widened in alarm, seeing the two tiny figures that raced across the field. "My God! NO!"

Even the Ancient had blanched at the sight of the miniature horse and the dachshund, heading right into that chaos. Worse, the two younglings stopped at the very spot where the fighting was thickest.

In truth, Moeru and Chester were just as stunned to find themselves in the middle of a battle. For a moment, they simply sat there, unwitting observers...that is, until their mischievous dark orbs focused on those flying kilts, not to mention the distinct bulges in the Vikings' trousers. They looked at each other, grins on their faces as the same foolhardy idea crossed their perverted little minds. Having made their decision, the dachshund and the midget horse completely forgot the dangers to their fiendish little hides. With their precious coin purses jingling around their necks, they trotted playfully amongst the combatants, staring up at crotch bulges and peeking under flaring kilts.

Seeing what the babies were doing, Duncan slapped his hand to his forehead. "Damned those coin purses! They are going to be the death of them!"

"No, I don't think so!" Methos remarked with a grimace. "I'll be the death of them, once I get my hands on their necks."

Suddenly, however, a most astounding thing happened. Probably noticing the strange, peeping creatures in their midst, Highlander and Viking alike stopped fighting, their swords in mid-clash. All the men stared at the small horse and dog, who were still busy sniffing for ample private parts. Sensing that startled eyes were focused on them, Moeru and Chester looked at the men around them in surprise. They plopped down on their butts and gave the combatants stupid smiles.

At the sight of those ridiculous grins, everyone, Scot and Norseman, burst into gales of laughter and derision, pointing at the poor younglings. Chester and Moeru's lower lips trembled. Never in their lives have they felt so humiliated. At once, anger welled up inside them and low growls rumbled in their throats. They didn't think twice. Moeru and Chester leaped, their teeth sinking into a hunk of buttock of a Viking and Highlander respectively. As the babies' victims howled in pain, all hell broke loose once more.

"That's it! That's it!" Methos blurted out. "I'm going to kill them!"

The concubine, however, did not hear what the Ancient said. All he could see were his beloved pets, clinging to the asses of two of the men who had laughed at them. To his horror, a Viking's blade flashed in the bright morning sun, about to be brought down on the two younglings.

Fear for the puppy and the pony compelled Duncan to launch into action. Kicking Denko into a full gallop, he unsheathed his katana and roared, "Don't you dare harm my babies!"

Methos shook his head in dismay. "Here we go again! Let's go, Thanatos!" Heeding his Master's command, the war steed raced after the concubine.

Nearing the babies, Duncan shouted to them, "Moeru! Chester! Let go!"

The puppy and the pony swiftly obeyed, just as the sword began to descend. Leaping out of his saddle, the whoremaster blocked the blade with his katana before it could cut down the Scot that Chester had bitten.

At the sight of two more Vikings heading towards them, the concubine yelled to the Highlander who was favoring his butt, "Get down!" Although startled by the sight of the strangely-dressed man, the Scot had the good sense to duck. In a graceful whirling motion, Duncan slashed three Norsemen at one swipe.

Methos, who was holding back two Vikings on his own, said grinning, "Nice move! What do you say? Shall you and I..."

Duncan gave his lover a beguiling smile. "You know, you don't have to ask me that!"

The two Immortals let out the fierce ululating cry of the desert warriors as they charged at the Vikings. Methos and Duncan moved like lightning, slashing and hacking their way through the Norsemen. Their opponents attempted to drive them apart, but even singly they couldn't take either Immortal down. At one point, Duncan did a graceful aerial corkscrew, his twirling blade connection with the heads of several Vikings. Methos was just as agile, leaping high and using the heads of startled Scots as stepping stones to sneak up on their foes and hack them down. In the end, between the two of them alone, they were able to dispatch about a third of their opponents. Even Moeru and Chester managed to get a few licks in, with a kick here and a butt bite there.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle pierced the air. At that signal, the Vikings retreated into the heart of the valley, heading in the direction of the eastern woods. At the sight of the enemy running with their tails between their legs, the Highlanders cheered in victory.

Methos and Duncan, however, were the oblivious to the celebration going on around them, as they turned to the two guilty babies.

"Did you see the trouble you two caused?" the Ancient scolded the younglings, wagging his finger in their faces. "I'm of the mind to give you a spanking."

"What if something terrible happened to you, like you got hurt or, worse, killed even?" Duncan exclaimed in anger and concern. "I could never forgive myself!"

Moeru and Chester were stricken at the sight of the glimmer of tears in their young Master's eyes. With a sorrowful wail, they dove for the concubine, sending him falling backwards to the ground. Before Duncan could protest, they proceeded to smother him with licks and kisses.

At that moment, a young Scot with curly brown hair, a mustache and a goatee on his chin approached Methos. Raising his hand to the Ancient, he declared solemnly, "Our Chieftain is coming, but let me be the first to thank ye for yer assist, stranger. I doubt it if we cad 'ave defeated the Vikings withou' ye."

Something in the Highlander's eye disturbed Methos. It seemed as if he was not too happy with their victory on the battlefield. Keeping his observations to himself, he shook the man's hand.

"You're welcome," Methos answered smiling, "although to be honest, we decided to step in on account of our little rascals here." He nodded to the horse and the dachshund who were still licking his lover's face.

"That wee horse o' yours cad certainly bite," another, much older Highlander, declared, grinning. Rubbing his behind, he added, "And so does tha' strange dog!"

"They're quite a handful, these two. I'm sorry that they caused trouble for you."

Suddenly, a booming voice declared behind them, "Well, Robert, it seems the Clan MacLeod owes their thanks to a pair of wise little creatures."

At the sound of that familiar voice, both Methos and Duncan froze in their places.

The Scot, whom Chester had bitten, announced in all formality, "May I introduce ta ye our Chieftain, Ian MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Can ye tell us yer names, sirs?"

Dread filling his entire being, Methos slowly turned to face the stern form of the Chieftain of the Clan MacLeod. The reaction that the Ancient expected to see was quickly reflected on Ian's face -- shock, hatred and anger.

"YOU!" Ian MacLeod hissed in fury, as he unsheathed his claymore.

Before Methos could step back, the Chieftain swung his mighty sword. The Ancient barely heard the frantic cry of "NO! DON'T YOU DARE HURT HIM!"

One second, Duncan was lying on the ground, the next, he was standing between his stunned lover and his enraged father, waiting for the sharp blade to cut off his head.


	5. Chapter 54

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR**

 

It's been nearly twenty-five years since Methos last saw the clan claymore of the MacLeods. He had forgotten how big it was and how sharp its blade was. So sharp was the claymore that its keen edge flashed in the sunlight. To the Ancient, it was ridiculous for his mind to focus on the deadly characteristics of that formidable sword, knowing that it was about to take his brave lover's life. But it was the one thing that kept Methos from screaming Duncan's name as he watched that blade, in a bizarre slow motion, inch closer and closer to the whoremaster's vulnerable neck.

Something stung his eye, causing Methos to turn away for a second. With his green gold orb tearing, he squinted at his beloved, fearing the worst.

Instead, the Ancient beheld Duncan still standing straight and tall, his head firmly attached to his neck. The claymore had cut through the knot of the concubine's turban, freeing his waist length tresses. It was a strand of brown hair that had stung his eye earlier. Somehow, Ian managed to check his swing in time, but that mighty sword still managed to create a bleeding cut at the side of that long, graceful neck. Surprisingly, despite the approach of that deadly blade, Duncan's eyes remained open, staring unblinkingly at the startled, pale face of his father.

With detached calm, Duncan commented, "I've heard many good things about the Highlanders of Scotland. But is giving death to the men who helped you win a battle your way of showing your gratitude?"

Ian's face grew red and hot with embarrassment as he lowered his sword. "That man..." he gestured to Methos. "I thought he was...he looks like..." The Chieftain turned to the Scotsman whom Chester had bitten earlier. "Just look at him, Donal! He looks so much like..."

Donal went towards his flustered lord. "Ian, it's been twenty-five years. This is a young man. He couldn't be the person think he is."

Mortified by what he had almost done, Ian began to fall to his knees at Duncan's feet. "I beg yer forgiveness. By my rash actions, I have brought shame to my clan."

Methos' observant eye caught the critical expression of displeasure and disgust on Robert MacLeod's face, seeing their leader prostrating himself at the feet of a stranger.

Duncan himself was taken off guard by what his father was about to do. Before Ian could kneel before him, he took hold of his arms and urged his elder to stand.

"This isn't necessary," the concubine gave him a gentle smile. "It was an honest mistake."

"But your wound."

"Nothing but a cut that would heal in a few short days." When Ian was at last standing, it was Duncan's turn to kneel before his father in the proper obeisance to a great leader. "We are soldiers of fortune from the desert lands, my lord. My name is Shinno, a warrior trained in the battle styles of the Far East. My companion is called Adam, who is also serving as my teacher and weapons master." Cold noses nudged his arm. Grinning, he urged the babies forward. "These miscreants are Moeru and Chester." Hearing whinnies from the stallions behind them, Duncan decided to introduce them as well. "Those two over there are our loyal war steeds, Thanatos and Denko."

Ian graciously bowed to them and motioned for Duncan to get up. "It is a pleasure ta meet ye all an', again, let me thank ye for the aid ye had given us. We had just come from Clan Campbell when the Vikings ambushed us, men o' Kanwulf the Destroyer. They've been roaming the Highlands, plundering the villages, an' now it seems they have set their sights on the MacLeod lands. Perhaps I could entice ye to come with us to Glenfinnan. We need good men like ye, and maybe ye cad teach our young warriors some of those...fighting techniques. We will pay handsomely for yer services."

Duncan glanced back at Methos, who simply gave him a reassuring smile. When his eyes fell upon the younglings, Moeru and Chester nodded eagerly, elated at the prospect of shelter and a good meal.

"Very well, my lord," the whoremaster said formally, although inwardly he was excited to be returning home. "We would be very happy to help you. And do not concern yourself about our payment. Lodgings and decent meals would be enough."

Hearing Duncan's reply, the Scot's clapped and cheered that they had found formidable allies against the Viking scourge. Only one person was not happy about these developments.

Through narrowed eyes, Methos observed the changes in emotion on Robert's face, all of them negative -- distrust, jealousy, anger and hate.

_You bear close watching, Robert MacLeod,_ the Ancient firmly decided. _There is something not right about you, and I intend to find out what it is._

 

Duncan was thankful that he had decided to cover his face with the tail of his turban, or else everyone would see the blush on his cheeks. This was the kind of homecoming he had always dreamed of, riding through the village of Glenfinnan, his clansmen cheering his arrival, riding beside his father. It didn't matter that, because of his exotic attire, they eyed him with a mixture of awe and suspicion. He was home at last!

The concubine stole a glance at his father, marveling at the confidence the elder MacLeod was showing for his people. In all these years, he hasn't changed at all. He was still the same brave leader of the Clan MacLeod. But then, remembering his near deadly reaction earlier, it was obvious that Ian was still set in his ways and principles. He had obviously not forgotten nor forgiven them for that night twenty-five years ago.

_What would you do, Father, if you find out who I truly am_? Duncan asked in great sorrow. _Would you finish what you started minutes ago?_

The image of his mother's smiling face filled his mind, giving him renewed courage. Eagerly, he looked through the crowd that had gathered, hoping that he could see her. But there was no sign of Mary MacLeod.

Before he could lapse into depression once more, there was an outraged squeal below him and Moeru literally jumped into his arms, trying to evade the children who had been gleefully tugging his mane and pulling his tail. Methos rode up beside him, with Chester on his lap as well.

Duncan ruffled both their ears. "Oh, Moeru, Chester! You have nothing to be afraid of. They're babies, children just like you. They only want to play with you, you know. You'd better get used to it."

The pony and the puppy glared down at the happy children and stuck their tongues out at them spitefully.

"Now that wasn't very nice!" Before he could wag a scolding finger at them, the concubine's hand was enfolded in Methos' grasp.

"Are you all right, Shinno?" the Ancient inquired, casting a discreet glance at the cheering throng, knowing full well who his lover was searching for.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Adam," Duncan answered, squeezing his beloved's hand.

Their soft exchange caught Ian's hearing, and out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed that tender gesture. The Chieftain had heard stories about the lifestyles of men from the east. He would have to remind them that such...practices...were not permitted in Scotland, more so in Glenfinnan. Ian still remembered that terrible night as though it were only yesterday. He would not have a repeat of it again.

As they were about to cross the drawbridge leading into the keep, they were met by a running, panic-stricken woman, who quickly rushed to Ian's side.

"Elspeth! What is it?" Ian demanded from the panting woman, dread rising in his heart. "Is something wrong?"

"It's yer wife, my lord!" the woman cried in terror. "'Tis Mary!"

A frown of worry creased the whoremaster's features, hearing his mother's name. Even Methos was just as concerned.

"My Mary? Tell me, woman! What happened to her?"

"She got past Debra an' I! My lord, she's up in the tower again. We tried to stop her, but she climbed over the balcony and..."

Horrified eyes trained up the walls of the keep, to focus on the tower and the small figure seated precariously on the ledge of the balcony. Even afar, they could hear Mary's plaintive cries.

"Duncan! My son!" Mary screamed in anguish. "Where are you, Duncan?"

Before Ian could order his men to help him rescue his wife, the man whom they believed to be the Eastern warrior Shinno had already jumped down from his horse, his medical kit tucked under his arm, and was sprinting into the keep, his beloved pets following close at his heels.

 

Although breathless, Duncan raced up the flights of stairs, fear for his mother's life urging him on. He ignored the stares of the people he passed by. Neither did he notice that his turban had unraveled from his head. All that mattered to him was to reach the tower chamber in time.

Sure enough, as he neared the top, the whoremaster heard his mother cry, "Stay away from me! Stay back!"

"Mary, for God's sake, don't be daft!" the voice of a younger woman caught his ears. "Get back here or else you'll fall and break your neck!"

"NAY!" Mary declared stubbornly. "I promised my son tha' I wad wait for him, an' I shall! Why can't ye all understand how I feel? I just want ta see my dear son again!"

What this unknown woman said next caused anger to flare up inside his heart. "Yer son is dead, Mary MacLeod! If ye are so determined ta see him again, why don't you jump off from tha' perch right now, and spare us from yer lunacies?"

Taking the steps three at a time, the concubine reached the tower, his brown eyes focusing angrily on the young woman with long, curly red hair standing with her arms akimbo inside the room. Before she could spout off more of her venom, he grabbed her arm, yanked her outside the room and forced her to face him.

"What ill wind had brought a foul-mouthed bitch such as you to this place?" the concubine furiously demanded. "You're a woman and yet you know nothing of a mother's anguish for her lost son! Now, go, you spiteful creature, before I forget I'm a gentleman and slap you in the face!"

As he shoved her aside, the woman nearly stumbled over Moeru and Chester, who had appeared as well. Duncan then stormed inside the room, with the babies sticking close to his heels, and slammed the door shut behind him. Ensuring that there would be no interference, he turned the key and locked the door.

Out on the balcony, Mary was in tears. "My son is dead? Why do ye keep saying that? For twenty-five years, I waited for my precious Duncan to return to me. Every day, I come to this tower so that I would be the first to see him when he arrives. Each day, my hopes and dreams are shattered. Perhaps Debra is right. Perhaps Duncan is in Heaven right now with the angels, waiting for me to join him."

Duncan wanted to burst into tears as well, seeing the pale, frail, hysterical woman his mother had become. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that, in her despair, she would jump. He had to draw her mind from this dangerous line of thinking and fast.

"What if Debra is wrong?" he said softly, shaking her out of her troubled thoughts. "What if your son is alive?"

Mary looked at the young stranger who was slowly coming close to her. Instinctively, she inched away, fearing that he was one of her husband's men, come to take her away from her appointed spot.

"But I've waited so long!" she whispered in anguish. "And still there is no sign of him! I fear I had lost him forever!"

Surprisingly, instead of grabbing her, the young man merely took his place at her side, leaning over the balcony, the wind whipping through his hair.

"And that is why you intend to take Debra's advice," Duncan mused sadly. "But did you ever think about what would happen if you did this fatal deed, and your son is truly alive? Have you ever thought about how he would feel if he learns that his mother had taken her own life because of him?"

Mary stared at the handsome stranger, the light of reason again shining in her eyes. When he faced her at last, tears streaming from his gentle brown doe orbs, she felt her heart give a lurch, although in her infirmity, she could not understand why it would react that way.

"I will tell you how I will feel if I were in your son's place." The whoremaster looked her straight in the eye, holding the gaze firmly with his own. With a choked sob, he declared, "It would break my heart, my lady. So great would be the pain and the guilt that I would choose to go to the afterlife to be with you."

Duncan raised a beseeching hand to her. "Don't choose death, Mary MacLeod! I beg you! While there is life, there is hope that you and your son would be reunited."

For what seemed like an eternity, Mary gazed at the young man before her, unsure of what to do. Then, to her even greater surprise, a tiny horse and a little dog with a body as long as a meat sausage crept towards her. Standing on their hind legs, their front legs draped over the balcony's ledge, they licked her fingers, urging her to take the offered hand.

"What delightful creatures are these?" she asked in awe.

A beautiful smile formed on his full lips, filling her lonely heart with warmth and hope. "If you let me help you climb back in, it would please me greatly to introduce them to you."

Curiosity about the young man and his charming wee friends were all the incentives that Mary needed. Taking that strong hand, startling Duncan by its fevered warmth, she allowed him to help her down. She let out a gasp as he lifted her in her arms and carried her over to the bed. After tucking her in, he took his medical kit and started to mix a potion that would lower her fever as well as help her sleep.

From the bed, the whoremaster heard his mother say, "This used to be my son's room."

Duncan stopped briefly at what he was doing, realizing why this room seemed so familiar to him. Letting his eyes roam the small chamber, he saw that his toys were still neatly arranged on the shelves. There was a small table and chair in the corner. The bed was neatly arranged, with fresh linen covering it. On the table beside the bed was a small lamp.

"My husband..." Mary hesitantly continued. "He wanted to burn everything, but I wouldn't let him. Everyday, I cleaned this wee room in case my Duncan should return."

The concubine swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm sure your son would appreciate what you have done, my lady. That you have cherished his possessions."

"'Tis the only ta keep his memory alive," his mother answered back.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Duncan went towards the sick figure on the bed, dragging a chair behind him. As he sat down, he lifted Mary up and pressed the vial to her lips. "Drink this, my lady. It would help lower your fever."

Timidly, Mary drank it all, grimacing at its tartness. Gently, he laid her back down on the soft mattress. Chester and Moeru chose that moment to approach once more, laying their heads on top of the mattress, breathing warm air on Mary's face. With trembling hands, she caressed their heads and tinkered with their ears.

"You promised ye wad introduce yer wee friends ta me," she whispered, smiling at the two babies.

"Yes, I promised you that, didn't I?" Duncan patted the dog's head. "This one is Chester. He is a breed of dog called a dachshund."

"He looks like a sausage!" Mary giggled. "You look good enough to eat!"

With his tail wagging, Chester stood up and licked her face happily, tasting the saltiness of her tears.

Nudging the colt closer, the concubine introduced, "Now, this one is Moeru, a Japanese name for 'flame'. Yes, he is indeed a horse, but he is specifically a midget horse."

Moeru "humpphed" in protest, glaring up at his young Master.

Laughing, Duncan gripped the pony's cheeks and pressed his brow to the star on Moeru's forehead. "It's time you accepted that you are a midget horse, Moeru. You're certainly not getting any taller."

"Aye, but he is delightful just the way he is! Great things come in small packages. That's what my wee Duncan was...if only his father had given him a chance to prove his innocence and his worth."

At that remark, the whoremaster was at a loss for words as the tears threatened to fall once more.

As the drug began to take effect, Mary yawned and blinked her slowly closing eyes. Caressing his cheek, she whispered drowsily, "What about you, my handsome young stranger? What is yer name?"

"I am called Shinno, my lady."

Mary yawned again as she drifted off to sleep. Before she did so, she murmured, "Shinno, a strange name, but a wonderful name for a kind young man such as ye." Then, her head fell back on the pillow as she lapsed into deep sleep.

Moeru and Chester looked up expectantly at their young Master, the expression on their faces urging him to say what was truly inside his heart.

Weeping, his whole body hitching with the force of his sobs, Duncan took his mother's hand and pressed it to his lips, kissing her finger tips over and over again. "It's me, Mama! I'm the son you've been waiting for for all these long, lonely years! It's Duncan, my dearest Mama! I've come home to you at last!"


	6. Chapter 55

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE**

 

Everyone heaved a relieved sigh as they watched the young stranger help their lady down from the balcony ledge. Methos, however, was beaming with pride for his lover.

Glancing at Ian, who had turned pale from the nerve-wracking ordeal, he thought in amusement, _Oh, Ian! If only you knew that that young man who just saved your wife is that loving son of yours whom you banished years ago... If you knew the truth, would you still allow that incident that cloud your opinions of him or would you judge him for the man he is today? In just a short period of time, he has proven himself to be a man of worth. Even as a child, your son revealed his heroic nature, something which you refused to see. Child or man, you should be proud of Duncan, Ian MacLeod. I know I am very proud of him._

Noticing that the Ancient was staring at him, the Chieftain of the MacLeods approached him. "It appears that I owe ye my thanks again. First, ye saved us from the Vikings. Now, yer...friend...rescued ma wife."

"It was nothing, my Lord," Methos said humbly. "As Shinno had told you, we would be very happy to help you in any way we can."

"My wife...she's been ill...she hasn't been the same since..." Ian never finished what he was going to say. It was apparent to the Ancient that that tragic night still rankled him. A frown of wariness creased the brow of the Lord of the Keep. "But I find it curious how he was able ta get up ta the tower in time. One would think tha' he knows the lay o' the keep."

"Don't forget the simple logic of staircases, my Lord. Stairs always lead up or down, depending on whether you're at the foot of it or at the top. Shinno always had a good sense of direction. He simply remembered the location of the tower and let his nose lead the way. No matter how many staircases there are or how tortuous they may be, if you had a good sense of direction like Shinno, you would never get lost."

That simple explanation thankfully satisfied Ian, who nodded thoughtfully. "Aye, that is true." Turning momentarily to Robert MacLeod, he said, "Please see ta the wounded for me, Robert. I wish ta speak with Adam."

Robert gave his Lord a polite bow and headed off to the barracks.

"Come with me," Ian urged Methos, who followed the Chieftain inside his home.

As he looked around the imposing fortress, the Ancient couldn't help but feel a sense of deja vu. In the twenty-five years that they've been gone, not much has changed. True, there was still some activity from the hustle and bustle of the servants. However, it seemed as if time had frozen still in the keep of the MacLeods. Worse, the Ancient noticed a pervading sense of gloom that didn't exist when he last walked its halls, and he knew the reason for it too. All good cheer and hope had disappeared when Duncan was banished from his home and his clan.

Ian glanced back at Elspeth who was following close at their heels. "Elspeth, I want ye ta have the servants prepare two rooms for our guests."

"Oh, that won't be necessary!" Methos hastily countered. "We could share one room."

The Chieftain, though, was insistent, even going so far as to raise two fingers before the housekeeper's eyes. "TWO rooms, Elspeth."

Methos immediately noticed that something was wrong, and he had a suspicion of what it was that was bothering this Scottish Lord.

Before he could offer another objection, there were angry shouts coming from the tower staircase -- one of them female, the other belonging to his lover. The racket they made caused the servants and residents of the keep to stop dead in their tracks. Sure enough, a furious Duncan stormed down the stairs, dragging a young woman with curly red hair behind him.

"Unhand me this instant, ye brute!" the woman shrieked. "Do ye no' know who I am? I am the daughter o' the laird o' Clan Campbell."

"Even if you were the Queen of England, I couldn't care less who you are!" Duncan spat back at her.

"What the hell is goin' on here?" Ian demanded. "What are ye doin' ta my niece Debra?"

Simpering twit that she was, Debra Campbell quickly tugged her arm out of the whoremaster's grasp and rushed to the Chieftain's side. "I was carin' for Mary, tellin' her ta get doon from the balcony, when he barged into the chamber. Mary almost fell from the noise he made!" She glared at the young man before her. "His fiendish creatures e'en tried ta bite me under ma skirts!"

"Why, you lying bitch! I doubt it if what you have under that smelly skirt would be enough to make good coin purses for Moeru and Chester!"

"My Lord, ye must banish this bastard! He's a spy for the Vikings I tell ye! He means ta harm yer beloved wife!"

The concubine took two angry steps toward Debra, his hand curling up into a fist. "You evil witch! Are you really that determined to have your face bashed in?"

"Ye will do no such thing!" Ian roared in outrage, laying a blocking hand on the young man's chest. "Is this how men in the East treat helpless women? Do ye no' know how ta respect a lady?"

"I give my respect to those who deserve it, and she is not one of them! I cannot respect a foul-mouthed harpy who doesn't understand a mother's grief for her lost child! If I didn't reach the tower in time, your wife would've jumped to her death from the balcony, _at her urgings!_ It was that bitch, NOT I, who nearly caused her to fall!"

Ian was at a loss for words, unsure as to who among them he should believe. Having known Duncan for so long, Methos didn't have a doubt in his mind who was telling the truth. He was already aching to speak in defense of his lover.

Suddenly, tears of anger and frustration started to pour from Duncan's eyes as he looked straight at his father and the cringing woman at his side. In his fury, he pointed a finger at Debra's face.

_"Keep that __Highland__ harridan away from my mother!"_ Duncan cried in rage. _"If you dare to go near her and, more so, to kill herself again, I swear I will hurl you from the balcony myself, and have my wee horse trample you to a pulp to the ground and my dog pick the miserable flesh from your bones!"_ Saying this, the distraught concubine raced back up the tower, the sound of his heartbreaking sobs echoing in the sudden silence of the keep.

A few more minutes passed, with no one daring to utter a word. Some of the servants were even eyeing their Lord's niece with displeasure. It was that silence and those stares, not to mention the stiff figure of the Chieftain, that led a nervous Debra Campbell to speak up.

"My Lord!" she whispered urgently, tugging his shirt sleeve. "Surely ye do no' believe a stranger! Ye know how dear ma aunt is ta me!"

Instead of answering, Ian nodded discreetly to Elspeth.

"Come along, child," the housekeeper pried Debra's fingers loose from her uncle's shirt and led her gently away. At their departure, the servants also resumed their chores.

When they were alone at last, Methos stated firmly, "Shinno is not a liar, my Lord."

"Aye, I know that!" the Chieftain agreed with him, surprising the Ancient. "Debra is a capricious creature."

"Then why do you let her take care of your wife?"

"I had been hoping tha' Mary wad...feel...something for her. After all, she is ta be Robert's wife. 'Twas ma hope tha' Debra..."

"Would take your son's place inside Mary's heart. Wrong move, my Lord. A mother will never forget her bairn."

Ian looked curiously at Methos. "Yer...friend...Shinno is a strange one. He called Mary 'mother'. Why wad he do that?"

"It is not my place to speak of my comrade's private life to others. But I will tell you a little. Being forced to part from his beloved mother was the most painful experience in his life. Up to now, he still hasn't gotten over it. Given what happened to your wife, I am not surprised that he reacted this way."

"His pain must've been very deep indeed. I've heard such things about the East -- how children are taken from their mothers at a very tender age."

Methos nodded, but inside his mind, he answered, _If you only knew that that atrocity did not take place in the East, but right here in your own home._

"My Mary is also hurting," Ian reluctantly admitted. "E'er since our son...she's always sick. In recent years, her lucid periods have become shorter and fewer. As ye 'ave seen, she always finds a way ta escape ta tha' tower chamber. 'Twas ma son's room, ye see. She wad go there an' wait for his return." The Lord of the Keep bit down on his lip. "But he's ne'er comin' back."

"What happened to him?"

"I dinna want ta talk abou' it. 'Tis too...painful, e'en up ta now."

"What about your wife? Does she know that he won't be returning home?"

"She won't accept it." A pregnant pause. "She blames me for the loss o' our son. She hates me for it."

_Should I take the risk?_ Methos mused, after hearing the Chieftain's words. _Should I even dare suggest it?_ For the sake of mother and son, however, he knew he must do something. Looking the Lord straight in the eye, he began, "If I might hazard a suggestion, my Lord, and I hope you will not consider it an impertinence on my part."

"Aye, ye may speak," Ian gave his permission.

"My Lord, aside from being a warrior, Shinno is a healer," the Ancient revealed to the Chieftain. "I am sure he could help your wife. They also have something in common; they both have lost someone they cared deeply for. What better way for a hurting heart to be healed than through the aid of a kindred soul."

"I do not wish to impose too much upon yer kindness. Ye 'ave done so much for us already. But, aye, I must admit that the thought has entered my mind." Ian let out a sigh of surrender. "If yer...friend...wad approve..."

"You don't even have to ask him. You've seen for yourself how concerned he was for your wife. Not only will he heal her, he will protect her with his life. Give Shinno a chance, my Lord. Trust him. I swear he could do wonders for her."

Noting the housekeeper's return out of the corner of his eye, Ian nodded. "Very well, Adam. I accede to yer wisdom." Turning to Elspeth, he informed her that Shinno was now in charge of his wife's care, as well as gave her additional instructions as to the room assignments of the two Immortals, something which caused the Ancient to frown once more.

As Elspeth walked away to fulfill what her Lord had ordered her to do, Methos inquired, "My Lord, we do not wish to take advantage of your hospitality. I mean, two rooms? It would be too great an inconvenience for you. Shinno and I could share one room."

When he said that last, the Chieftain of the MacLeods faced him. The fierce glare in the old mortal's eyes nearly caused Methos to step back in fear.

"Unfortunately, I must insist on each o' ye having yer own chamber, and 'twill no' be an inconvenience on our part. In fact, I have an inkling tha' it wad be a greater inconvenience for all o' us if the two o' ye were to share one room." Ian looked Methos straight in the eye, unblinking and daring. "If I may be blunt, I've heard tales abou' ye men from the East, an' I have every reason ta believe tha' ye an' yer friend Shinno are..."

 

_"He said what?"_

"Keep your voice down, will you? Let's talk about your father later. I want to know the condition of your mother."

Duncan gave his lover an impatient scowl. Rather than insist on knowing what his father had told his lover, he breathed a sigh of surrender and plopped down on the bed in a Lotus position, his pack hugged close to his body.

"Mama has a high fever, probably the reason for her delirium earlier," the concubine explained. "Of course, you have to add severe melancholia to the list. It is this more than anything else that is aggravating her health."

"Is it all right to leave your mother alone like this?" Methos inquired in concern. "I mean, she might..."

"I gave her a sleeping potion, along with the medicine for her fever. And she's not alone. I left Moeru and Chester with specific instructions not to let anyone near her, especially Debra Campbell. I told them to kick her from the balcony if she tries doing it again."

The Ancient grimaced, remembering that obnoxious young woman. "I suppose she was getting sick and tired of taking care of your mother."

"That is no excuse to tell a very lonely woman to commit suicide! Damn it! I should have let my babies scrounge under that skirt of hers for material for their coin purses!" Tears filled Duncan's sweet eyes. "She had my mother convinced, Methos. If I had arrived any later, she would be..."

Methos stood up and went to the younger Immortal's side, laying a comforting arm on his shoulder. "But you came in the nick of time. Duncan, you saved your mother's life."

"My father's a fool!" the whoremaster said angrily, pounding his fist on his thigh. Leaning against Methos, he added, "How could he entrust my Mama to a bitch like Debra Campbell?"

"She is to be the wife of your cousin Robert. I think your father wanted them to be close."

"So that she could forget about me."

Methos nodded. "But he knows that your mother will never forget you. Still, he must try something." A sly grin went up the corners of his mouth.

The whoremaster noticed that fiendish smile. Suspiciously, he asked, "Methos, what did you do?"

"Let's just say that your tear-jerking performance earlier gave me the perfect opening I needed to talk to your father about your mother. You do know that you called Mary 'mother' earlier, right in front of us."

Duncan's eyes flew wide in shock and then he frowned darkly, struggling to remember. "I did? Are you sure?" Groaning, he slapped his hand to his brow. "Oh my God!"

"You were furious with Debra Campbell, and anyone could see how terrified you were for your mother. I must admit your father became suspicious, but I told him that you were...taken away...from your mother when you were still a child. Thank goodness he's been hearing...stories...about these so-called 'men from the East'. Not only did he understand how you felt, he even agreed with my suggestion that you be his wife's healer."

The concubine's practically lit up. "Methos...are you saying that..."

"Yes, you could be with your mother at all times. In fact, Ian has decided that you will take your old room at the top of the tower, also to prevent any more suicide attempts."

"While you shall stay in this chamber." Duncan let his eyes roam around the chamber that held so many painful memories.

Reading his lover's thoughts, Methos remarked, "Actually, I'm surprised that your father gave me back my chamber as well."

"Nothing my father does is purely coincidence. He did this for a reason. Do you think he suspects?"

"To be honest, I don't know. Personally, I think he's just reacting defensively to what happened twenty-five years ago. He never forgot, Duncan. Ian is harboring serious doubts about us, of that you could be sure of. But it is definitely not because he recognizes us."

Duncan let out an exhalation of impatience. "Methos, why don't you just spit out what my father told you?"

At first, Methos debated on whether he should tell his beloved or not. Sighing, he replied, "Your father said that he's heard that the men from the East are fey."

"Fey?" The concubine's brows rose up in surprise.

"You know what that means, Duncan," the Ancient declared with a pout.

"I'm just surprised that my father didn't accuse us directly of being sodomites. Fey...it must have been extremely difficult for him to be polite."

"He _should_ be polite to the men who had just helped them defeat the Vikings and rescued his wife."

"Is that why he insisted on separate rooms?" The whoremaster turned away from the older Immortal. "I'm sorry, Methos. We should never have come here."

"That's where you're wrong."

Duncan looked at his lover curiously.

"Ahura Mazda, Mithras and Devi Mari sent us here for a very good reason," Methos explained in all seriousness. "Something is definitely not right in Glenfinnan. I'm afraid that both your parents' lives, not to mention that of your entire clan, are in danger."

The concubine nodded thoughtfully. "I know what you mean. I've noticed the furtive glances that Robert had been giving us. There's something...strange...about my mother's condition as well. She seems addlepated, and, when I gave her the sleeping potion, she quickly drifted off."

"She's being drugged." A dark scowl formed on the Ancient's face. "I think I have a suspect in mind." He breathed in deeply. "Oh, Duncan! The troubles that you and I get into!"

"I'm more worried about you. Methos, would mind...waiting...until all this is over?"

Hearing that nervous query, the former Horseman chuckled. "After the way your father glared at me, I could remain celibate for a decade." He then became serious. "I have no intention of putting you through that hell again, Duncan."

"I won't be afraid this time, Methos," Duncan smiled warmly. "I'll fight for our love. You can mark my words on that."

"I pray that we won't reach that point. You and I know what your father is capable of. That is why we must be very careful at all times. You especially. I know you love your mother dearly, but you must take care that you do not make any more emotional outbursts like what happened earlier."

"It would be difficult, but I'll try."

Smiling, Methos caressed his beloved's face. "Duncan, when you rescued your mother, I was so proud of you. I wanted to shout to everyone, especially your father, who you truly were."

"I did what I had to do, Methos," the concubine answered. "I won't let anyone get between me and my Mama. Not even my father."

The Ancient leaned towards his young lover, kissing him tenderly on the lips. Before the kiss could deepen and they could succumb to the call of their hearts, Methos pulled away with great reluctance. "You'd better go to your mother now. She needs you."

Nodding, Duncan got to his feet and went towards the door. Gazing back at the older man, he whispered, "I love you, Methos."

"I love you too."

The whoremaster then left the Ancient's chamber, closing the door with a slow tug of his hand. Quietly, he made his way up to his tower room. Going inside, he fixed his things on the dresser. His weapons, however, he kept locked inside their case, with the notable exception of his katana. Taking his bed roll and his sword, he went down a floor, heading for his mother's chamber.

The minute he opened the door, Duncan was met by Moeru and Chester.

"Is my mother all right?" he asked his favorite younglings, dropping to one knee before them.

The miniature horse and the dachshund nodded, glancing back at the sleeping figure on the bed.

Smiling, he patted their heads. "Thank you, my little friends. You helped me save my mother's life. Tell me how I could repay you."

The answer that the young Immortal received were sad little pouts and rumbling noises in their stomach.

"No one came up here to give you food?" the concubine asked in surprise.

Moeru and Chester shook their heads, sniffling pitifully and tears trickling from the corner of their eyes.

Duncan stared guiltily at the two babies. In all the tense activity, even he had forgotten to request his father to have the servants bring food for them. Sighing, he took his medical kit and pulled out a small vial. Removing the stopper, he took a sip from it.

There were hopeful twinkles in the eyes of the colt and the puppy as the whoremaster replaced the vial in his kit and went about laying his bed roll on the cot. Sitting down, he removed the laces of his shirt.

Opening his arms to them, Duncan smiled and said, "Come here, you two! Just this once, I'll make an exception."

That was all the invitation that Chester and Moeru needed. With broad smiles on their mouths, tongues lolling, they ran eagerly into their young Master's loving embrace.

 

Mary had no idea what time it was when her eyelids fluttered open. Although she was still very sleepy, for once, her mind was surprisingly clear. She remembered what had happened earlier -- climbing onto the ledge of the balcony, with Debra Campbell urging her to jump. She had come so close to leaping to her death too, if it were not for the very handsome young man with those tear-filled brown eyes.

_"If I were in your son's place, my Lady,"_ he had told her, _"it would break my heart. So great would be my pain that I would choose to follow you to the afterlife. Don't choose death, Mary MacLeod! I beg you! While there is still life, there is hope that you and your son would be reunited."_

How could she ignore that heartfelt plea?

Then, Mary was shaken out of her thoughts by the sound of soft whispers, and her eyes focused on the three figures lying on the cot. It was her savior, and, to her utter amazement, she saw, in the dim light of the lamp, that he was nursing from his own breast the little horse and the puppy, these same wise creatures who had also insistently urged her to live. Rather than be disgusted, Mary was touched by the loving scene before her. Seeing how bright his handsome face was as he smiled and gave his obviously happy, well-fed younglings sweet kisses, she knew without a doubt how great his capacity was for love, generosity and kindness.

As she closed her eyes once more, Mary was startled by the thought that entered her head. It was this tantalizing thought that remained fixed inside her mind as she drifted off to sleep, along with the sweet image of the young man and his precious babies.

_Oh, how I wish that you were my beloved son Duncan!_

 

It was around midnight when Ian MacLeod began his rounds of the keep, in particular, to see to his guests. That man called Adam troubled him. He looked so much like his old armsmaster, the man who had...

The Chieftain shook his head. Donal had insisted that he was mistaken. It's been twenty-five years. Adam couldn't be that man he thought him to be. If he were, he would've shown signs of aging. But Adam was a young man.

Reaching his guest's chamber, Ian opened the door slowly and peered at the bed. He was relieved to find Adam sleeping and alone. Perhaps the warrior had been right in his assertion that he and Shinno were only the best of friends, true brothers in arms. Still, the Chieftain would not dare take the risk. These two Easterners were too close for his comfort.

Closing the door behind him, Ian went up to the tower, planning to check on Shinno as well. But first, he had to ensure that his wife was well.

Great was the Lord of the Keep's surprise when he entered the chamber to find the man he was going to check on sleeping on a cot pulled up close to his wife's bed. To his chagrin, huddled at Mary's feet were the pony and the puppy.

"Duncan? Duncan?" Mary whimpered, a tear falling down her cheek, as her nightmares plagued her once more.

He was planning to wake her up when Shinno reached out instinctively and took Mary's hand in his gentle grasp. That contact of their hands had a soothing effect on his wife. For the first time in years, a tiny smile formed on Mary's lips.

Then, Ian's eyes fell upon the blanket that had been pulled down to the young man's waist. Before he realized he was doing it, Ian took the hem and carefully started to yank it up. His right hand felt the softness of Shinno's hair. Gently, he took that mass of golden brown silk, marveling at the beauty of those waist length tresses, and laid it on top of the quilt, letting it fall like a shawl over the young man's body. Pleased at the way he had arranged that beautiful hair, the Chieftain pulled the blanket up to Shinno's chin. He even brushed a loose strand of hair from that handsome face and tucked it behind his ear.

A sweet smile curling up the corners of his full lips, Shinno whispered lovingly, "I love you, Mama. I love you, Papa."

The Lord of the Keep felt a sudden jolt inside his chest, and his heart began to pound at a rapid pace. For a moment, he was seized by a strong urge. Rather than give in to the impulse, he silently ran out of the chamber, shutting the door in his passage. Ian didn't stop running until he reached his own room.

Now thankfully back in his sanctuary, he was able to center himself, to regain his calm and stern composure as the Chieftain of the Clan MacLeod.

But why was he regretting his abrupt departure from his wife's chamber?

_"I love you, Papa."_

Why was Ian regretting even more that he had resisted bestowing a fatherly kiss upon that lonely young man's cheek?


	7. Chapter 56

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX**

 

The sun had yet to peep from behind the majestic peaks of the Highlands of Scotland, but already a cloaked form had emerged from within the castle. With a quick nod to the guards, he crossed the drawbridge and headed towards the shoreline of Loch Shiel.

Entering the woods, he walked through a hidden path not trodden upon in twenty-five years. His pace quickened, his euphoria apparent with every sprite step. Before he could even reach his destination, one by one, he peeled off his clothes with sensual grace. By the time he reached his favorite spot -- a beautiful lagoon -- he was totally naked. Breaking into a run, he leaped from the rocks, forming a graceful arch through the air, and dove into the waters of the loch.

Accustomed to the heat of the desert, the cold water shocked the concubine, forcing him to swim upwards to catch his breath. As he broke the surface, Duncan burst into laughter, his tears of joy mixing with the water that sluiced down his face.

"I'm home!" he whispered happily, gazing at his surroundings. "I'm really home!"

The whoremaster wanted so much to shout his joy out loud. Unfortunately, he couldn't take the risk of anyone hearing him. To stifle the urge, Duncan dove under once more, relishing the invigorating cold upon his bare skin.

In the next half hour or so, the concubine frolicked in the loch like a graceful seal, floating with the small waves and splashing playfully in the water. He even attempted to dive down to the loch bed.

It was during such a descent that he was suddenly jolted by the disturbing aura of another Immortal. He swiftly swam to the surface, only to find that the resonance in the air had faded away. He reached out with his untrained senses, but there was no one.

Already tired and satisfied that he was alone, Duncan swam towards an outcrop of rock and climbed on top. Lying on his back, he gazed up into the lightening sky and the morning birds that flew and chirped overhead. It was a beautiful day, which would've been better if Methos were here to share it with him.

At the mere thought of his Ancient lover, the concubine found, to his dismay, that his member had risen in growing earnest.

"Not now!" Duncan scolded his amorous cock. "You know that Methos and I can't do that here!"

But his blood continued to rush into his insistent rod until it was fully erect.

Groaning, Duncan let his left hand drift down to enclose his cock. "You're a bad influence, Methos," he muttered under his breath as he proceeded to stroke himself. To maximize his pleasure, his right hand flew to his chest to fondle and pinch his sensitive nipples.

The whoremaster was an alluring siren on that rock, his body writhing in ecstasy and his moans echoing in the morning air, as he pumped and played with his heated flesh. He was building himself up to an explosive release.

Suddenly, the Buzz hit him like a freezing avalanche. As his erection waned instantly, Duncan got to his feet. Jumping from the rock, his skipped across the loch surface, his feet barely getting wet as he did so. He didn't stop when he reached the shore, grabbing his katana and a handful of shurikens in his passage. As he entered the woods, he used an old tree stump as leverage to jump onto a high branch. Sure enough, there was a rustle in the brush ten feet away from him.

_"Stop right there!"_ Duncan shouted. Fearing that his quarry might escape, he leaped down from the tree and let fly his shurikens.

There was a flash of a sword followed by the clashes of metal against metal. To the concubine's shock, he saw his throwing stars bearing down on him. With a graceful somersault, he caught them all in his hands. As he landed, he found himself held tightly in Methos' arms.

_"Damn it, you fool!"_ they cursed in unison. _"Do you know that I could've killed you?"_

"I...sensed...someone in the woods, Me...." Duncan didn't get to finish saying his lover's real name as Methos quickly pressed a hand to his lips.

"The guards told me that you went out of the keep, Shinno," the Ancient carefully said, a reminder as to what their names were in Glenfinnan. "I came here looking for you when I felt the same thing you did."

"It's another one like us, isn't it?" the whoremaster whispered.

Methos nodded. "But whoever it was, I could no longer feel him. However, there is still something...." His head whipped to the side, his green gold eyes focusing sharply on a copse of trees.

Before Duncan could react, the ex-Horseman snatched a pair of shurikens from his lover's grasp and threw it at the shadow that emerged from the bush. The throwing stars were embedded in a tree, between its sharp blades the neck of a terrified boy with blond hair.

With scowls on their faces, the two Immortals approached the trapped stranger. At closer look, they saw that the boy couldn't be more than seventeen.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Duncan demanded from him.

To their surprise, rather than remark on his precarious predicament, the young man asked in a distinctly English accent, "Aren't you going to put some clothes on?"

Methos flung his cloak over his startled lover's naked form. Chuckling, he said, "Forgive my friend. Where we come from, nudity is something we're not ashamed of." The Ancient yanked the shurikens out of the tree trunk, freeing their captive, and pressed the sharp stars into the younger Immortal's hands. The boy glowered at them, rubbing the sides of his neck.

"You are not a Highlander," the whoremaster remarked.

"Yes, I'm not," the young man replied. "My name is Richard Ryan from Manchester. I joined the English army to fight in the battles against the Scots, but...but..."

"Let me guess," Methos grinned at him. "You did not become the brave soldier you planned to be. I suspect, because of your youth and your glib tongue, they made you into a courier instead. The task was not to your liking and so you decided to run away. To your great misfortune, though, you were captured by a Scottish patrol."

Ryan blushed hotly at what the Ancient correctly surmised. Lowering his gaze, he mumbled, "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess, I suppose. No, to be honest, the servants told me a bit about you, and that the Chieftain ordered you to fetch Shinno here for breakfast. I can't believe that the MacLeods trusted you so quickly."

"It isn't trust, Adam," Duncan hastily amended his lover. "He deserted his own countrymen. He has no home to return to, that is why his presence is tolerated here. Because of his youth, he is considered a threat to no one. Since you deserted your comrades-at-arms, even if they were English, the MacLeods treat you as the lowest of the low, even lower than a servant."

"Which suits me just fine!" Ryan angrily spat back. "I may be dirt, but at least I have a roof over my head in the stables and scraps to eat!"

"What about honor, boy?" queried Methos.

"I don't know what that word means. Even as a child, I had no honor, no pride, because I was an orphan. I grew up with dreams of making a name for myself. But no one could give an orphan like me a chance to prove my worth. I thought my luck would change in the army. I was wrong. What use have I for honor if I die in a battlefield somewhere? No one will even mourn my passage when I'm gone. Since I owe no allegiance to the country that has not seen fit to treat me as its citizen, I abandoned my post." He looked sharply at the whoremaster. "You called me a coward? Better a coward than a corpse!"

"I never called you a coward, Richard," the concubine stated point blank. "You did what you had to do to survive. Living in a world as harsh as this, not giving up...it is still a badge of honor to fight for one's survival, no matter what people say."

Ryan looked at the strange man before him curiously. "You speak as if you know."

Methos gave his lover beside him a meaningful glance. "Let's just say that you, my dear boy, are luckier than we. The trials you've survived are paltry compared to the hell that we, especially Shinno here, as been through. But like you, we survived. Always remember, Richard -- Live, grow stronger, fight another day."

"Just call me 'Richie'. That's what everyone calls me at the keep." Smiling shyly, the boy nodded. "And, yes, I'll remember what you told me."

The Ancient smiled, knowing that Richie would take his words to ask. Leaning close to him, he asked, "Did you, by any chance, see anyone else in these woods?"

"I did hear someone moaning earlier. Quite noisily too," the boy replied, his answer causing Duncan to blush in embarrassment. "There was also some movement in the bushes, but I thought it was just you two."

Methos patted Richie's shoulder. "If you see anything suspicious, even at the keep..." He flipped a gold coin which the young man easily caught. "...You be sure to tell us."

"There are a lot of suspicious goings-on at Glenfinnan," Richie acknowledged. "But, yes, I'll do as you say."

"Good lad! Now run along, young man, before the others start looking for you. Tell no one of what happened here. Simply inform the Chieftain that Shinno and I will be right there."

"Yes, sir!" Richie gave the Ancient a snappy salute. Grinning lasciviously at the flustered whoremaster for a second, he ran back in the direction of the keep.

When the boy was finally gone, Duncan wrapped the cloak tightly around his body and headed back to the lagoon. "I'll just go and get my clothes."

"I'll go with you!" Methos piped in, strolling along with his lover. Noting the suspicious glance that the concubine had given him, he quickly countered, "Believe me, Shinno! That's the last thing I have on my mind right now."

"But it was on your mind earlier...while you were watching me."

"As I said, the Chieftain also sent me off to look for you. I remembered that this was your favorite place as a child." The Ancient winked mischievously at the younger man. "Then again, even if I hadn't known that this place existed, I would have found you just as easily because of the noise you were making. Were you thinking about me, my love?"

"No, I was thinking about Ismail." Seeing the older Immortal's glare, Duncan quickly countered, "Of course, I was thinking about you, you old fool, and no one else. Aside from Richie, though, do you think someone else saw me?"

The former Horseman turned somber. "As I said, like you, I sensed an Immortal in the woods, and I have no doubt that, whoever he was, he was watching you too."

"I thought it was Richie at first."

"My signals got crossed. The Buzz could only tell you that there's an Immortal in the vicinity. But it was a powerful aura, strong enough to dampen Richie's infantile drone."

"Which means our mysterious Immortal is one of the old ones, not as old as you though. I'm not surprised that you received mixed signals. After all, Richie is Pre-Immortal and his aura is very different from yours and that of the other Immortals from the desert. I wonder who could it be?"

Methos shrugged. "I'm afraid his identity will be a mystery to us for now. But we must always be alert. I'm not too comfortable with the atmosphere. It wasn't like this twenty-five years ago."

Duncan picked up his strewn clothes one by one and proceeded to don them. "So you felt it too? The general unease... Is that the reason why you enlisted Richie's help?"

"He's perfect to spy for us. Because of his low station, everyone generally ignores him."

"I don't want that boy to get into trouble because of us, Methos."

"I'm sure he'll be careful, but just in case, I'll talk to him later and remind him." Suddenly, Methos groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead, surprising his lover who was tying the turban around his bound hair. "Speaking of reminders, I completely forgot that there's another reason why I was looking for you."

"What did you forget? Don't tell me you're getting senile." Duncan gasped in fear, his eyes wide. "No! Methos, it's not my father, is it?"

"It is about your mother, but it's not her exactly."

"Then what's wrong? Damn it, why don't you just spit it out? You're making me very nervous here!"

The Ancient took a deep breath and blurted out, "You'd better do something about Moeru and Chester. Those two are taking their job of protecting your mother too seriously. The last time I checked, they had chased away two tower guards, Elspeth the housekeeper, Donal MacLeod, and even your father. Ian was furious!"

"How did that happen?" asked the concubine in bewilderment. "I told them to keep Debra Campbell away." The whoremaster shook his head. "This is so embarrassing. I'd better go ahead. Methos, if you should bump into my father before you go to the dining hall, please give him my apologies for what our babies did, and also that I cannot join you all for breakfast. My place is at my mother's side."

Before Methos could get a word in, the younger Immortal ran off.

"'Our babies'?" the Ancient echoed what his lover had said. Scratching his head forlorn, he mumbled, "No wonder those two mini creatures are so spoiled!"

 

After a quick stop in the kitchen to get a bowl of lentil soup, honey buns and a cup of fresh milk for his mother, Duncan carried his tray of delicious edibles through the halls, heading for the stairway which led to the tower. Tucked under his right arm was a bouquet of wild flowers he had picked.

Suddenly, a horrendous shriek reverberated throughout the keep. As he looked on in surprise, a screaming Debra Campbell dashed past him, nearly knocking him and his precious breakfast to the floor. To his even greater shock, as he pressed his back to the wall, a furious, whinnying Moeru followed closely by a yapping Chester raced by him in hot pursuit of the shrieking banshee, and disappeared at a side corridor.

Completely forgetting that he was actually supposed to give the babies a scolding, Duncan crowed after them in perverse glee, "Go get her, boys!"

Then, a happy Chester toddled over to him, his stubby tail wagging. Stopping before the concubine, he sat back on his hind legs and showed his young Master the torn piece of a frilly petticoat he had in his mouth.

Setting the tray down, Duncan patted the dog's head and ruffled his large ears.

"You did very well, Chester!" the whoremaster praised the happy puppy. "Now, where did Moeru go?"

As if on cue, the snooty pony made his grand entrance. Unlike the dachshund, what Moeru had inside his mouth were a pair of women's knickers.

"Oh, Moeru!" Duncan hugged the naughty colt, giggling. "You won't find good coin purse material under Debra's skirt. Remind me to wash both your mouths out later. Lord only knows what...diseases...you might have gotten from that harridan." At that comment, both puppy and pony immediately dropped their "trophies", spitting out in disgust. "Come on, you two! Let's bring the Lady of the Keep her breakfast."

The concubine picked up his tray while Moeru grabbed the bouquet. A small sunflower fell out of the bunch, the stem of which Chester daintily took between his teeth. Together, young Master and pets made the trek up the long staircase.

Reaching his mother's chamber at last, Duncan beamed when, as he opened the door, he saw Mary MacLeod seated on her bed, her back propped up by pillows.

"And how's my lovely lady this morning?" he greeted going towards the bed and laying the tray on the small serving table.

"A bit better, thank you," Mary answered graciously. As the concubine positioned the serving table over her lap, she asked, "Is this ma breakfast?"

"Yes. Lentil soup, honey bread and a cup of fresh goat's milk to give you back your strength. And..."

Moeru and Chester leaped on the bed and gallantly offered a delighted Mary the flowers.

"They're beautiful!" she gushed, breathing in the blooms sweet scent. As the mini horse and the dachshund lay close to her side, Mary looked guiltily at the whoremaster, who was tucking a napkin under her chin. "I hope ye won't get mad at me."

This statement surprised Duncan. "What reason have I to be angry with you?"

"I told yer wee friends tha' I dinna want to be disturbed by anyone this morn, not until ye come."

Nodding in understanding, the concubine proceeded to feed his mother with spoonfuls of soup and bite-sized pieces of bread. "Oh, I see! So you're the reason why Moeru and Chester have been chasing people away. Did you tell them to drive your husband away too?"

"Aye!" Mary reluctantly admitted. Discreetly taking a honey bread, she began giving small pieces to her trusted protectors, which amused Duncan greatly. "None o' them understand ma pain, most o' all Ian. They cannae make me forget ma son. 'Tis you, a stranger, who understands how I feel."

Sorrow crossed Duncan's handsome features. "Perhaps because I share your pain. While you have lost a son, I have lost a mother. The pain of losing the one you love...sometimes, it becomes too much to bear."

"That is oh so true! 'Tis my husband who is responsible for the loss of ma Duncan, and I have never forgiven him for it." Mary gazed sadly out the window. "But I ne'er stopped hoping that ma son wad return ta me, although I...I almost came close."

The whoremaster slowly lowered the spoon, his hand tightening around it. "Please don't do that again. If I lose you, it would be like...like losing my mother for a second time." As he said this, a tear fell unbidden from his eye.

Mary raised her hand and wiped away the tear. Cupping his face, she said firmly, "I swear I won't do it again. I promise ye that."

Duncan swallowed down the tears that were threatening to rise from his throat. Nodding to his mother, he answered, "And I will hold you to your promise."

"Do ye wish me ta tell ye stories abou' ma Duncan? Maybe ye can tell me abou' yer dear mother as well."

"Perhaps in the next few days, my lady. Let's not talk of things that would make us sad for now."

Moeru and Chester sat quietly, nibbling on the delicious tidbits that Mary was giving them, watching as their young Master served his sick mother, not another word exchanged between them. The babies observed the intense gaze that Mary was according the concubine. Although she was not aware of it, the pony and the puppy knew that blood was calling to blood. They could sense that Mary wanted to give in to this maternal urge, to hold the whoremaster in her arms.

When she was finally through eating, Duncan took away the serving table. Picking up the tray, he said, "I'll be supping in the kitchen, my lady, but I'll return as quickly as possible. Moeru and Chester will keep you company in the meantime. If you need me, just tell them and they will fetch me for you."

"I'll be fine," Mary said reassuringly. "Just do what ye have to do."

A sad smile lifted from the corners of the Immortal's mouth. "You're my patient, Lady Mary. I'm here to take care of you, and I shall."

Before he could leave, his mother called him by his Japanese name for the first time. "Shinno?"

Duncan turned around to face her. "Is there something else I can do for you, Madam?"

Judging from the desperation in Mary's eyes, Moeru and Chester knew immediately what she was going to ask.

"Shinno? Please?" Mary begged the surprised concubine. "May I...may I embrace ye? Please, Shinno?"

The two babies gazed expectantly at their lonely Master, both of them eagerly waiting for him to answer 'yes'. They could see it on his face how much he longed to feel his beloved mother's arms around him.

But Duncan's sorrowful answer was, "No, my lady. Forgive me if I cannot accommodate this particular request. I do not deserve a mother's embrace. Please save it for your son when he returns to you."

Mary was dismayed by his reply. Still, his last words instilled hope inside her heart. "You sound as if ye're sure tha' ma Duncan will come back."

"I know he will, my lady. I know he will."

Giving a quick nod to the babies, Duncan hurried outside the chamber, closing the door, just as his tears began to flow. Cursing himself furiously for not giving in to his yearning, he all but ran down the stairs, his shoulders swiping several times over his wet cheeks.

When the whoremaster finally reached the ground floor, however, he was immediately accosted by a very angry Robert MacLeod. Beside him, looking none the worse for wear, was Debra Campbell.

"If I might 'ave a word with ye, sir," Robert announced, although it was an obvious strain for him to be polite.

"If what you have to say to me has something to do with your fiancee," Duncan began curtly, "then we have nothing to discuss." He made to move push his way through them, but Debra blocked his path.

Showing him her disheveled attire, Debra demanded, "Do ye see what yer animals did ta me?"

With a snort of disgust, the concubine sneered at her, "You're lucky that's all they did to you!"

Suddenly, Debra's arm made an upward sweep, knocking the tray out of his hands. Duncan could only watch helplessly as the bowl broke into a hundred pieces of the floor, the metal tray and cup hitting the solid ground with deafening clashes.

"God damn it! Do you see what you've done?" the whoremaster cried, shocked by what had happened.

Before he could fall to his knees to pick up the shattered remains of the bowl, Robert's hand tightened around his left arm, yanking him up, while his right clamped painfully on his cheeks, forcing the concubine to face him.

"Look at him, Debra, ma love," Robert spoke in derision. "His fancy clothes, his pretty face, his sweet eyes..."

"Aye, ye're right, Robert," Debra cackled fiendishly. "He does look fey ta me."

"Fey? Ye dinna 'ave to be damned polite ta the likes o' him." Glaring into Duncan's frightened eyes, Robert spat out, "I know a wanton when I see one. A faggot. A whore!"

"How dare you speak to me in this manner! After what Adam and I did for you and your people!" The whoremaster made to lash out with his right fist, but Debra grabbed his wrist.

"I owe ye nothin', ye infidel!" Saying this, Robert swatted the turban from Duncan's head, causing his lovely tresses to cascade down his body in a waterfall of silk. "Stay out o' ma business, whore! Ye and yer...friend! And tell tha' also ta those devil creatures ye 'ave with ye. The next time ye interfere, the next time I see either hide or hair o' tha' ugly dog an' stupid horse, I will no' hesitate ta cut ye doon wi' ma sword!"

"And I tell you, Robert MacLeod, Debra Campbell," Duncan muttered back. "If either of you cause Ian or Mary MacLeod, I will hunt you down to your graves!"

"Hah!" Debra retorted. "Strong words from a filthy whore!"

Robert shoved the concubine down to the floor. "Watch yer back, Easterner! Ye dinna know when a snake wad bite ye in the arse." Smirking, he added, "Dinna turn against me, Shinno! I know...people...who wad like ta plunder tha' sweet little ass o' yers!"

At these words, the two lovers walked away, their evil laughter ringing in the air. The moment they turned at the end of the hallway, Methos appeared with Ian MacLeod at his side.

"Shinno!" the Ancient gasped, running to his lover's side. As gripped the younger man's hand, he was shocked by how cold it was. Duncan's hand was trembling violently. Pulling it free, the concubine hurriedly proceeded to pick up the pieces of the bowl.

"Wha' happened here?" Ian demanded, seeing the broken bowl at his feet.

The whoremaster fell to his knees before his father, bowing low. "I beg your pardon, my lord. I tripped and I dropped the bowl."

Ian was flustered by the position of severe humility that his guest had taken before him. "'Tis no necessary, young man. 'Tis a loss tha' cad be easily replaced."

But when Duncan lifted his head, both men were stunned by the tears that flowed continuously from his anguished eyes. His hands shaking, he clutched Ian's wrists in desperation.

"I beg your forgiveness, my lord, for what my beloved pets did to you earlier," he sobbed. "They only obeyed my command to protect your wife. They meant no harm, sir. Please! Do not harm them. If you should wish to punish them, let the punishment fall on my head instead."

Those tears tugged at Ian's heart. "Ye 'ave nothin' ta apologize for. I understand. I know tha' the little ones only wish ta protect ma dearest wife." Instinctively, he reached down to caress the young man's face and wipe the tears from his eyes.

Duncan, however, quickly stood up, with tray in hand. "Thank you, my lord, for your kindness and understanding. I'll take this to the kitchen." Saying this, the whoremaster ran away.

Ian shook his head, suddenly feeling guilty. Turning to Methos, he inquired, "Ye dinna say anything else ta him, did ye, Adam? I only meant ta speak ta him abou' it. I fear I might have terrified him."

Methos looked at his lover with concern. Whatever it was, it certainly did not have something to do with the Chieftain. "Don't think about it too much, my lord. I don't think it has anything to do with you." Inwardly, he mused, _I'd better have a talk with Duncan later to see what really happened._

 

Mary was telling a funny tale to a happy Moeru and Chester when the door to her chamber suddenly burst open. Before she realized what was happening, the Easterner whose name she knew to be 'Shinno' flew right into her arms and buried his face in her breast, his body hitching with the force of his weeping.

Although troubled by the despair in the young man, deep inside her heart, she was pleased. Embracing Shinno and running her fingers lovingly through his hair, she crooned a soothing lullaby to him, the same song she used to sing to her Duncan. For a moment, Shinno stiffened in her arms, but then, he slowly began to relax, allowing himself to be lulled by that sweet melody. In a few minutes, he had fallen asleep.

Mary smiled at Moeru and Chester, who were blinking at her in confusion.

"He's going to be all right, little ones," she reassured the two babies. "All your Master needs is a mother's loving touch."


	8. Chapter 57

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN**

 

There was an advantage to being a disgraced English deserter living among the Scots. As Duncan had correctly surmised, Richard Ryan's activities were relatively ignored. Even if he had been a spy for the Sassenachs, it would be a useless endeavor. He would have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, all roads leading to death. Then again, Richie had no such inclinations to become a turncoat. A survivalist to the bone, he gave his loyalties to no one except himself.

Which was why it was a huge surprise for Richie himself that he was actually following the stern figure of Robert MacLeod, for the Highlander's next venture outside the keep.

Richie never liked the Scot. Unlike his stern, yet honorable Chieftain, there was something about Robert that reminded him so much of that furtive creature called the weasel. That was what Robert was -- a weasel. The same could be said for his fiancee, Debra Campbell. They were a dangerous pair, all the more reason that Richie shouldn't be tailing Robert MacLeod.

However, the young man had sworn to the two Easterners that he would keep an eye on Robert. It was an easy decision to make. Adam and Shinno were the only ones who treated him with respect and trusted him explicitly. They made him feel like he was worth something. It's been a very long time since he had friends. He won't disappoint these friends he had now.

Richie stopped near the sentry post, eyeing the Scot's movements. Robert, thankfully, never looked back. As if just out on early morning stroll, he casually walked into the woods. It was good that the Scot had not glanced back in the direction of the gates. If he had, he would've spotted the Englishman easily.

Despite Adam's admonition to be careful two weeks back, it was a warning that wasn't necessary. From his own experience since their first meeting, Richie knew that he was not dealing with ordinary men. Although he was as silent as a mouse in the copse, both Adam and Shinno had sensed him. Same also for the hooded man who was hiding in the clump of brush behind him. The only reason why his cover was inevitably blown was because this mysterious stranger had almost attacked him. Even though he was nearly transformed into a human pin cushion by Shinno's sharp, star-like knives, Richie knew that the two Easterners had not intended to kill him, but the deed, much to his relief, drove his attacker away. The young Englishman knew that the hooded man was evil.

The same man whom Robert MacLeod was going to meet for the fourth time in two weeks.

Sure enough, Richie found the two men in the same spot where they usually held their rendezvous -- a secluded clearing that was surrounded by a thicket. Unfortunately, he couldn't get close enough to hear what they were talking about. If he moved any closer, gut instinct was telling him that the hooded man would know he was around.

This time, though, the hooded man's voice was audible as he raged, "I do not want him harmed!"

Robert laughed in derision. "Harm? We're just toyin' with his oh so delicate sensitivities. An' why should ye care? Any fool cad see he's just a whore!"

A large hand reached out and closed around the Scot's throat. As the fingers tightened, Robert began to choke. Great was the pain and the air lack that he fell to his knees.

"He's mine! Do you hear me, MacLeod? MINE!" the hooded man hissed in his face. "I will not allow that you or that damned woman you call your fiancee hurt him in any way!"

Abruptly, he released Robert, who coughed and gasped in air like a drowning fish. Gazing up at the hooded man, the Scot reminded him, "Keep yer voice down! Someone might hear ye!"

For a moment, Richie's blood ran cold as Robert's associate stared in the direction of the tree he was hiding behind. To his relief, however, the two men resumed their talk once more, this time, in hushed tones. Still, Richie was able to catch snippets from their conversation.

"No harm..." Robert said in reassurance.

"You better be damned sure!" the hooded man spat back.

"...Under my control..."

"Except for the other and..."

"Debra...take care of it."

"I want him!" the hooded man insisted.

There was a wicked smirk on Robert's face as he said, "...give ye a memento."

 

That last apparently satisfied the hooded man. After a few words exchanged, the two men gave each other simple nods and went their separate way. Still, Richie waited for a much longer time, to be sure that they were indeed gone.

When, at last, he was assured that he was alone, it was only then that Richie emerged from his hiding place. Scratching his head, he pondered upon what he had heard.

_I wonder who that 'him' they were talking about is,_ mused Richie. _And, what...'memento'? I'd better talk to Adam or Shinno about this. They might have an idea._

 

It would take another day before Richie could give his report to the Ancient Immortal. Something else was weighing heavily on Methos' mind.

This was the fourteenth day that Duncan had bowed out from joining him in the training exercises for his clansmen, on the pretense of caring for his mother. Just this morning, the Horseman had found the concubine in bed, the blanket pulled up to the lower half of his face, back turned to the older man. It had taken Methos a good three minutes or more to rouse his lover. After all, if there's something so difficult to rouse, it's a man who's already awake but just pretending to be asleep. Methos' persistence was rewarded by a low, exasperated growl from Duncan, and the ready excuse that he didn't get any sleep the previous evening because Mary had a terrible nightmare.

"Oh, Methos! Maybe tomorrow! I just want to get some sleep!" the whoremaster groused, his glossy tresses a veil of brown silk on the bed sheets behind him.

Methos realized that only his lover's mother could get him out of bed. With a defeated sigh and grudging "All right!", he left the concubine's chamber.

Now here, in the training enclosure, as he gazed at his grinning opponent, the Ancient knew without a doubt who was the reason for the younger Immortal's discomfort and sudden timidity.

With a grim glare at Robert MacLeod, Methos pondered, _What the hell are you up to, you sneaky bastard? If you think I'm going to allow you to drive Duncan back into his submissive persona of Sanchi, you're dead wrong!_

"What are these lessons ye've been tryin' ta teach us, Adam? Cut an' run?" Robert suddenly hissed, the sneer not leaving his face. "Is this how ye Easterners fight? 'Tis no' how we battle here in the Highlands. A Scot would hack an' bash his way toward his opponent 'til the enemy is lyin' dead in a pool o' blood at his feet."

To Methos' dismay, the other Scots nodded their assent. The only man who remained silent and unmoving was Donal MacLeod, and his displeasure over Robert's comments were clearly written on his face.

The Horseman's emerald and amber eyes flashed with the feral light of Death as he readjusted his grip on his Ivanhoe.

"Hack and bash, you say? If that's the way you want it, then I'll be very happy to oblige you," Methos muttered menacingly under his breath.

Before Robert could even blink, the Ancient attacked him in a flurry of swings and hacks of his sword. So sudden were those moves that the Scot could not mount a proper defense or even retaliate. Methos drove Robert relentlessly back until he has down on one knee. With a triumphant cry, the Horseman known as Death raised his sword and swiftly brought it down, the blade's edge merely nicking the skin at the side of the Scot's neck. Seeing his proud clansman humbled caused Donal to erupt with laughter. With a twirl of his blade, Methos withdrew his Ivanhoe and laid the flat of his sword over his shoulder.

"Gentlemen," he declared for all to hear, strolling among them and looking at each Scotsman straight in the eye, "we are not here to teach you how to become cowards. But as you've seen for yourself, 'hacking and bashing' your way toward your opponent is the only fighting technique you know. It's too...predictable. When confronted with an adversary who's stronger and quicker than you, it's either you don't know what to do or you're too proud to...run...from your opponent. It won't be your enemy who'll be lying in a pool of blood, but you. Let me tell you this. Taking evasive action is not the same as running. Keeping a distance between you and your opponent gives you the time and the opportunity to think of a way to measure his abilities, to find a weakness and to strike back at the right time. If only my partner Shinno were not...indisposed, he would show you exactly what I mean."

That insulting sneer returned to Robert's face as he got to his feet. "But, Master Adam," he began derisively. "Yer...partner...has not deigned ta join us at training. Is it no' a form of cowardice ta...evade...possible opponents stronger than him?" He gave the Ancient a meaningful look. "Or perhaps there is...another...reason?" Robert even made an exaggerated tilt of his head that caused his clansmen to laugh, with the notable exception of Donal.

The elder Scot's attention was caught by the figure hurrying toward them, and a broad smile slowly formed on his grizzled face.

"It looks like we're goin' ta have a demonstration after all, Master Adam," Donal remarked, nodding in the direction of the approaching whoremaster.

Turning, Methos had a warm smile on his face and a ready greeting for his lover.

However, when Duncan came closer, the Horseman's heart sank. Dressed in his usual desert garb, what Methos never expected to see was the black veil that covered the concubine's entire head. When the younger Immortal grabbed his hand, the Ancient was startled by the warm drop that fell on his finger.

Clearly distraught, all Duncan could mutter was his lover's name over and over again. "Adam...Adam..."

Then, Robert MacLeod spoke up, his voice causing the whoremaster's head to whip to the side to look at him. "Is somethin' the matter, Master Shinno?" the Scot inquired with contempt.

As if burned, Duncan released his hold of the Ancient's arm, his head lowered in the pose of a chastened underling. Oh, how Methos hated to see that gesture in his beloved again! With a choked sob, the concubine ran away before the elder Immortal could stop him.

More sharply than he intended, Methos bellowed, "All of you! Continue with your sparring!" Going toward a smirking Robert, the Horseman poked two hard fingers in the middle of his chest. So strong were those jabs that the Scot took a step back, rubbing his aching sternum.

"As for you," the Ancient began menacingly, "I'll have a talk with you later."

"Ooh! I cannot wait!" Robert spat back.

Methos was tempted to smack that grin off the Scot's face. Instead, he clenched and unclenched his fist several times, and stormed after his lover.

The Ancient found the younger Immortal in his chamber, sitting on the window sill with his covered face pressed to his bent knees. Methos didn't even bother to hide his anger.

Slamming the door shut, with the concubine jerking visibly at that loud bang, Methos demanded, "What the hell's the matter with you?"

Duncan's answer was to raise a shaking hand and slowly removed the veil. At the sight he beheld, even the Ancient was caught speechless.

The concubine's waist length tresses had been haphazardly shorn by a razor or a sharp knife. His now short hair spiked on in different directions that he looked like a porcupine. The hair at the back was cropped close to the scalp, with a few portions cut at nape length.

Hurt and broken, Duncan sobbed, "My hair, Adam! Look what they did to my hair!"

"Who did this to you, Duncan?" asked Methos, just as crestfallen. Despite the sufferings that he had to endure because of his looks, although he was not really a vain man, Duncan took great pains to preserve his assets. This...damage...was a huge blow to his ego.

The whoremaster shook his head. "I don't know! After you left, I fell asleep. I wasn't lying when I told you that I wasn't able to get any sleep last night. But when I awoke...my hair...it's gone!"

Hearing this, Methos frowned, his eyes looking down at the floor. His lover was right. Duncan's hair was nowhere to be found, not even a single strand. Whoever did this deed, he -- or she -- had taken the concubine's tresses as well. Methos recalled nearly bumping into Debra Campbell in the main hallway. It never occurred to him that the disagreeable woman was headed in the direction of the tower staircase. The Ancient cursed himself for not being observant enough.

For now, his greater concern was to snap his lover out of his despondency. Methos crossed the distance between himself and the whoremaster in four long strides. Gripping the upper arms of the weeping young man, the Ancient shook him hard.

"Duncan," he began between gritted teeth, "I want you to stop this right now!"

"I've worked so hard to be free," the concubine wept bitterly, "but why is everyone thrusting what I was right in my face? Why? Tell me, Methos. Is it my face? My body? WHAT? Does my entire form exude the aura of a whore?"

"Are you listening to the words that are coming out of your mouth? You're playing right into Robert's hand! He's twisting your head around with his mind games. Don't let him do this to you! Can't you see? Robert considers you a threat to him. He would do anything to destroy you!"

Duncan, however, wailed dejectedly, "I haven't done him any wrong! Why is he treating me this way?"

In his frustration, Methos was already itching to slap his hysterical lover in the face. "Are you going to give up so easily? What about your parents? Are you going to allow them to come to harm?"

Before the whoremaster could reply, there was a soft knock on the door. It opened a crack to reveal Donal's worried face.

"Uh...Master Adam..." he began hesitantly. "I think it wad be best if ye went ta the training field, before ye totally lose control o'er the men. I tried ta stop their wagging tongues, but..." Donal grimaced in disgust. "I'm sure ye know wha' I mean."

Methos rubbed his aching forehead. "Forgive me, Donal, but I couldn't care less anymore." He glared sharply at the distraught young Immortal. "There's only one person who could keep Robert MacLeod in line. However, if he is not inclined to do something about it, then I'm out of it. I don't have the patience for this."

The elder Highlander smiled in understanding. "Why don't ye go an' continue training the men? Let me take care o' things here."

Methos gave the mortal a suspicious glance, wondering if the Scot had overheard their argument outside the door.

Noticing the Ancient's dubious stare, Donal said in all sincerity, "Let me assure ye tha' I am on yer side. Please, sir! Give me a little time ta speak with the lad."

Despite his misgivings, Methos nodded, "Very well." Turning to his sniffling lover, he added, "You know where I'll be. If there's a problem, just holler for Moeru and Chester. Knowing those two, one would call me while the other would gallop to your side."

Although he didn't answer, Donal knew a warning when he heard one. He visibly turned pale, remembering the teeth of a mini horse gnawing at his behind.

Without saying another word, and still clearly exasperated with his beloved, the Ancient strode outside the chamber and quietly closed the door.

Duncan lifted his head and looked cautiously at Donal. The elder Scot had gone to the dresser and was rummaging through the drawer.

"Where the hell is it?" he heard the Highlander mumble. "I remember 'twas still here the last time I looked. Ah! Here it is!"

It was the whoremaster's turn to grant Donal a suspicious glare, seeing the pair of sharp scissors he held in his hand. But then, from within that same drawer, the Scot produced a length of old plaid and pulled the stool toward the window as well.

Smiling, Donal invited, "Come here, lad! A comely young man such as ye should no' be lookin' like a pine tree!"

Duncan blinked at the older man in confusion. But then, a tiny voice inside his heart was telling him that the Scot could be trusted. It was his heart that urged him to move, contrary to the dictates of his mind. With apprehension, the concubine slowly approached. Giving the elder Highlander one last wary look, he settled down on the stool, his head lowered. There was the sound of cloth being spread out. To Duncan's surprise, the plaid settled around him, the ends tied around his neck, just under his chin. This was immediately followed by the soft snipping of scissors. Donal was even humming the tune "Danny Boy".

Cheerfully, Donal remarked, "Aye, by the time I'm through wi' ye, ye'd look mighty fine indeed. An' once yer hair grows back, which it definitely will, I'll fix it up too just as pretty as it was before." With gentle fingers, he rifled through the young man's hair to shake out the smaller cuts. "I understand yer pain and yer tears though. Yer hair was so nice an' long an' flowing, like a horse's mane. Dinna worry. With time and patience, it will grow back ta the length it was before."

"I'm sorry," Duncan offered shyly. "I guess I made a fool of myself. Adam...he's very angry with me."

"An' with good reason. By hiding from Robert an' the other clansmen, ye're only fueling their words and suspicions tha' ye are wha' they say ye are."

"Fey...a whore. That's what they're saying, isn't it?"

Donal made a nonchalant shrug. "Ignorant words by ignorant and envious men. I'm sure ye know who exactly I'm talkin' about. They fear wha' they dinna know. But who are we to judge if a life is being lived rightly or wrongly? A man's worth, after all, is measured by his deeds. Robert...he fancies himself a warrior, a hardy Scotsman, but he is no'. He's all bluster an' no bite. Unfortunately, it seems his words have scored a direct hit."

"Well, wouldn't they?" said Duncan bitterly. "Robert and Debra...they were insulting, humiliating. Now, they did this to me!"

The elder Highlander picked up the hand mirror and pressed it into the concubine's hands. "It was wasted effort on their parts. Just look at ye now. A mighty fine laddie indeed!"

Seeing his reflection, however, Duncan's lips jutted out in a pout. True, Donal had repaired the mess created by Debra's blunt shears. But cut short, his hair formed waves that made his head look, in his opinion, puffy. A few strands even curled down his brow like bangs. The whoremaster stuck his tongue out at his reflection in disgust. He hadn't seen himself look this ridiculous, so...unmanly, since he was...

Duncan's heart suddenly stopped, the air around him hot and stifling. He lowered the mirror on his lap before it could fall out of his trembling grasp. Then, a dark shadow fell upon him as the old Scot came forward. Slowly, the concubine dared to look at the smiling face of the Highlander.

There was something so familiar about that face, even if it was grizzled with age and by hard living in a battle-scarred land. His once coffee brown beard was replaced by gray, although it was cut much shorter than it was before. Only those loving, tear-filled green eyes remained unchanged.

Then, Donal cupped the whoremaster's face in his trembling hands, a finger caressing a cheekbone.

"Up ta now..." Donal mumbled, a tear trickling down his cheek. "Up ta now, ye still dinna like havin' yer hair cut short. But it suits ye too, ye know? It makes ye look so young again. Like a bonny child o' four!"

Duncan started to weep anew as he wrapped his arms around the Scot's waist. "Uncle Donal...how long have you known?"

The old Highlander embraced his nephew lovingly. "I suspected it, but when I saw ye earlier as I entered yer chamber, wi' yer hair short..." He chuckled. "An' there's the way ye reacted ta Debra's attempt at a hair cut, I knew 'twas ye. 'Tis difficult, after all, ta get o'er a childish dislike." Removing the plaid, Donal urged the younger Scot toward the bed, willing him to sit down. "It's been twenty-five years! Wha' happened ta ye?"

The whoremaster looked nervously at his uncle. "Are you certain you want to know?"

"Aye! I wad like ta hear yer tale!"

 

Duncan's recounting of his life took almost the whole day. They would only pause to request for food and drink to be brought to the chamber by a servant, or the concubine would go down to check on his mother. When he was through, night had fallen, both men with tears in their eyes.

Wiping a trembling hand over his eyes, Donal said, "I tried ta convince Ian no' ta banish ye. Me and Mary, but your father wad no' be moved."

"Because he is right, you know," Duncan commented. "I am a whore, and I have twenty-five years behind me to prove that I am that."

"But 'tis no' the life ye wanted. Laddie, if ye had given in ta that kind of horrible living, maybe I wad ye call tha'. But ye did no'. Ye never surrendered until ye were free."

"So what if I'm free. Uncle, you see me here, sitting before you now. A stranger in my homeland. I cannot tell anyone who I am, even my mother. Do you know how difficult it is for me to tell my own mother that her son would return, when he is actually caring for her at this very moment? It just breaks my heart to not be able to hold her as I want, for fear of what my father would do when he finds out who I truly am."

"Aye!" Donal nodded sadly. "Yer father is a hard man. Damn his blasted honor! If it were no' for his obstinate, judgmental character, ye ne'er wad have suffered these past twenty-five years. If there is anyone to blame for wha' has happened ta ye, 'tis him! 'Twas ye who turned ye into a whore."

"No, Uncle," the concubine softly put in. "I will not lay the blame on him. Even back then, he guessed correctly in that I am fey." Duncan raised his head to give his uncle a firm gaze. "But I will not give up Methos. For some strange reason, the gods from the desert lands have seen it fit to bind us. Our destinies are entwined and so are our hearts. I was not able to fight for him when he was a child. This time, I will not allow anyone to part us, even if he were my own father. What about you, Uncle Donal? Now that you know everything, would you betray me to my father? Would you tell him who I really am? Would you reveal to him that his own son has become, in reality, a true sodomite?"

The elder Scot stared at his nephew aghast. "Wha' do ye take me for -- a Judas? I defended ye against Ian back then an' I will continue to do so now." He placed a solemn hand over his heart. "Aye, nephew! Ye 'ave my word tha' I will no' reveal yer secret ta anyone, until ye free my tongue from my oath. Howe'er, if by chance, yer identity should be revealed, and there's a possibility that it might, ye can count on me ta stand by yer side. I will no' abandon ye, Duncan. Ye are like a son ta me. I will protect ye wi' my life."

With great relief, Duncan flung his arms around his uncle's neck. "Oh, thank you, Uncle! Thank you so much!"

Donal patted his back reassuringly before gently pushing the young man away, but not releasing his upper arms. Pinching his nephew's chin between his fingertips, he said, grinning, "If ye want ta show yer gratitude, there is something ye can do for me."

"Name it, and I shall do what you say."

"Tomorrow, Duncan, I want ye ta join us at the training field."

Hearing that last, the concubine almost choked. "No, Uncle. You could ask for anything from me, EXCEPT that!"

"Wha' is there ta be afraid of? Ye, an' even Methos, will no' be able ta gain their respect if ye do no' put them in their places, especially Robert. 'Tis one thing ta see ye perform those...special skills...during the battle with the Vikings. But this is different. They want ta see those skills right before their eyes. Methos was correct in tha' only ye cad be able to accomplish wha' he's been tryin' ta do for the past two weeks."

"But Uncle Donal..."

"Nay, Laddie! If ye want ta earn MY respect, ye must face them all, and not hide under yer mother's skirts like a sissy boy. Ye're better than tha', Duncan. I remember ye as a wee child, an' ye ne'er backed away from anyone. Have courage, nephew. I'm sure ye'll triumph o'er them all." Donal smiled slyly. "Besides, are ye no' Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?"

Duncan was caught speechless. Stunned, he didn't feel his uncle pat him comfortingly on the shoulder. Before the old man could leave, the whoremaster turned and said, "Uncle..."

"Aye, Duncan?" inquired Donal, gazing at the younger man's visage by the flickering light of the candlestick.

"I told you about Silas."

"Ye did. One o' the Horsemen. The one who changed an' took care o' ye."

"Yes. I've always wondered why I warmed up to him so quickly, even if he had abused me in the beginning. Now, I know." Duncan smiled lovingly. "Silas reminded me so much of you."

Donal beamed as well. Leaving the chamber, he said, "Get a good night's rest, laddie. Ye have a busy day ahead o' ye."

"Aye, Uncle. I shall."

It took over an hour, however, for Duncan to get the sleep that his uncle ordered him to do. He sat quietly at the window sill, his mind drifting off to a mist-covered mountain in the East, and to his two teachers whom he hadn't told anyone about, not even Methos.

Getting down from the sill, the whoremaster padded across the room and went to his chest in the corner, where he kept his weapons under lock and key.Opening it, he pulled everything out one by one until he reached the bottom. Flicking a hidden switch, the false bottom snapped open. Lying beneath was a long object carefully wrappedin black silk. Picking it up, he pressed it gently to his cheek, hugging it at the same time.

"Tomorrow, Methos, I swear I'll make you proud of me." Duncan turned his gaze to the full moon. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the distant rustling of bamboo in the wind. Falling to his knees, he raised the object to the moon and whispered, "My teachers, now is the time. We shall see if I am indeed the right man to wield this precious gift that you have given me."


	9. Chapter 58

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT**

 

The following day was bright and sunny. As usual, the men of the Clan MacLeod were gathered in the training field, engaged in boisterous sparring. Methos, however, was not in a good mood. Rather than have his ire raised by another rejection from his lover to join him in the training field, this time, the Horseman chose not to approach the Duncan and left him to his own devices in his chamber. Then, there was the disturbing change in the men he was training. They were more stubborn now, resistant to any suggestions to improve their fighting skills. And the Ancient knew who was responsible for this.

Methos felt his hackles rise when Robert MacLeod sidled up to him and whispered in his ear, like a hissing snake, "I see tha' yer partner has stood us up yet again, Master Adam." Before the Horseman could spit out a retort, Robert slunk away to rejoin his comrades, laughing.

Gritting his teeth, the Ancient muttered furiously, "One of these days, I'm going to smack that wise ass grin off your face, Robert MacLeod!"

A hard hand clapped him on the shoulder. Methos turned his head to see Donal MacLeod standing beside him.

"Dinna worry abou' a thing, Methos," Donal told him reassuringly in a soft voice. "Things are goin' ta change around here, ye'll see. 'Tis the task o' someone else, not ye, ta put tha' braggart in his place."

Hearing the old Highlander call him by his true name, the Ancient's eyes narrowed with suspicion, his hand instinctively reaching down for his Ivanhoe. "What...did you just call me?"

Donal, however, simply ignored him, as a bright smile lighted up his grizzled face. "Wha' did I tell ye? Here he comes now!"

Methos gazed in the direction the elder Scot was pointing at, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

With confident strides, Duncan MacLeod was walking toward them. With his hair now short, it made him appear a lot younger. But this made the young Immortal's grim, determined features all too visible. The concubine was dressed in the costume of the ninja. What surprised Methos the most was that, instead of his dragon head katana, Duncan was gripping in his right hand a Chinese long _chuan_ or 'dragon' sword. Although the blade of the straight sword itself was still sheathed inside its scabbard, that ornate green hilt with its white dragon design and the yellow tassels attached to it were very familiar to the Horseman.

"Guid morning, Master Shinno!" Donal greeted the whoremaster with a gracious bow, causing a blush to rise up Duncan's cheeks.

"Good morning to you too, Donal," the concubine softly returned the greeting. His brown eyes met the Ancient's amber orbs. "And to you, Adam."

Speechless, Methos could only nod.

"Aye!" Robert declared with obvious derision. "So nice o' ye ta join us this mornin', Master Shinno! Yer presence here this morn is most unexpected!"

Duncan kept his face a mask as he approached his clansmen. Raising his voice so that all could hear him, he began, "I was confident in Adam's abilities as a warrior and teacher, that I felt my presence would not be needed here. As you very well know, the beloved lady of the Chieftain is ill, and I've been giving her my meager services as a healer to remove whatever...poisons...are coursing through her veins."

That last caused Robert to fall silent, eyes glowering at the whoremaster, but it was only for a moment. Again, that insulting sneer curled up the right corner of his mouth.

"For awhile there," the Scot remarked, "we thought ye preferred the women's company ta ours."

But Duncan looked Robert straight in the eye. "I go where I'm needed, and I'm needed here now."

Suddenly, there was a commotion behind them. Turning, they saw Ian MacLeod and two of his guardsmen approaching. For a second, the concubine was startled, his confidence wavering at the sight of the stern visage of his father. But Donal gave him a sly wink. There wasn't any doubt that it was his father's younger brother who was responsible for Ian's appearance at the training field.

Looking at Methos, his lover mouthed four strong words to him. "You can do it."

Following a distance behind the Chieftain was Richie Ryan. The boy signaled to Methos, but the Ancient discreetly raised a hand to keep back. Nodding, Richie went near the well to see what would happen next.

As Ian came near, everyone fell to one knee and bowed to him. With a wave of his hand, the Chieftain bade them to rise.

"I thought I'd come ta see wha' ye men have learned from our guests these past two weeks," Ian announced to all. "Dinna disappoint me," he added sternly. He then turned to Methos and Duncan. "Gentlemen, wha' are ye plannin' for my clansmen today?"

"Shinno's in charge of the exercise today, my lord," Methos answered.

Duncan hastily said, "The Lady Mary gave me permission to come here. I told Elspeth to call me if I am needed. I hope you don't mind, my lord, but Adam needs my assist this time."

Ian nodded. "As long as my dear wife is in good hands, I dinna mind at all."

The whoremaster gave the Chieftain a grateful bow. Facing the men, Duncan declared, "We shall do something different this time, Gentlemen. I know that Adam has been teaching you methods which you've been calling 'cut and run'. But I prefer to call them 'evasion and attack' techniques. Since you've been having difficulty in understanding this skill, I think a practical demonstration is in order to help you grasp the subtle nuances of this style. Let's see. You are thirty men in all. A good number for this exercise."

"What' do ye want us ta do?" one of the Scots asked.

"The first thing I want you to do is to drop your training swords and pick up your weapons."

Although they eyed the Easterner suspiciously, the clansmen, nevertheless, obeyed him. Robert, especially, was having fiendish delight in swinging his broadsword.

When all the men were armed, Duncan continued, "Now, what exactly do I want you to do? It's quite simple really. I want you all to attack me."

Hearing this, Methos gaped at his lover in shock, wondering if the younger man had gone insane. Despite his voicing of his confidence in Duncan's abilities earlier, facing thirty armed men was a different matter. Even Donal and Ian were equally stunned.

"I dinna think tha' this is a smart thing ta do," Ian commented, frowning. "Ye'll be using real arms here. Someone cad get hurt."

But the whoremaster granted his father a confident smile. "The only person who is at risk of seriously getting hurt here is me." Looking back at the men, he announced, "There are only two terms in this exercise -- One, if I score a hit by any means, then you're dead. Er...I mean, you're out. If any of you are successful in marking or disabling me in any way, then I shall concede that your fighting skills are superior to ours." Duncan paused for effect. "And Adam and I will leave this land, never to return."

Methos was alarmed by that last. It was a huge gamble that his lover was taking. If the concubine should lose, he would be forced to abandon his beloved parents to the people who wished to destroy them.

Before he could voice out his concern, Donal spoke up worriedly. "This is no' a simple training exercise, Shinno. Ye do no' know wha' ye're saying. Can ye no' see? Ye stand ta lose than win."

"I have ta agree with Donal," Ian concurred with his brother. Inside his heart, the Chieftain could not understand why he was not looking forward to seeing the Easterner lose, much more get injured or, worse, that he would leave Scotland in the event of his defeat. "One against thirty..." Ian mused, with a shake of his head. "Formidable odds. Reconsider yer terms, Shinno. I dinna think this is wise."

The concubine answered strongly, "In every battle, whether it be against the English or the Vikings, always remember that the tides could shift and that the odds, so promising in the beginning, could suddenly turn against you. The question I pose to you all is this: Will you be prepared to face those seemingly insurmountable odds?"

As he said this, Duncan slowly unsheathed his sword. Methos gasped, his jaw dropping, seeing that deceptively thin and fragile green blade, with its deep jade Chinese inscriptions flowing along its length.

Robert laughed at the sight of the faint vibration of the sword. "Do ye intend to fight us with tha' poor excuse of a sword? It wad most surely break with just one stroke o' our blades!"

"Do not underestimate this sword, Robert MacLeod. I am confident in its strength, just as I am confident with my martial arts skills." Duncan assumed a fight stance -- with right and left feet stepped forward and back respectively. His right arm was arched above his head, with his sword lying parallel to his extended left arm. The middle and index fingers of his left hand were raised in a kind of salute.

There was a sharp glint in the whoremaster's eyes as he grinned. Tauntingly, he asked, "Are you ready, Gentlemen? ATTACK!"

 

Methos watched with growing dread as the Scots obeyed his lover's command and charged at him all together, bent on doing Duncan harm. What was worse, the whoremaster did not make any moves to flee from his oncoming attackers. He just stood there, with jade sword ready.

When the irate clansmen were almost on top of him, there was a sharp whistling in the air, and, in the blink of an eye, Duncan disappeared. Donal and Ian couldn't believe what they had just witnessed. Even Richie was astounded, believing it be a feat of magic. But with his trained eye, Methos knew differently. Duncan simply moved faster than his adversaries, darting right into the heart of the angry mob. The shrill whistle was caused by the swift swings and slashes of his blade. When he stopped behind the mob, ten men immediately fell to the ground -- four knocked out by head blows from the sword's pommel and six with bleeding nicks and scratches on their arms and chests.

The Scots gaped in shock at the grinning young man. Robert was gnashing his teeth in fury.

"Why are you men so stunned?" Duncan inquired mockingly. "I thought you desired a 'hack and bash' attack? Forgive me, did I disappoint you? You know I just couldn't stand still and let you do me harm."

Thus insulted, with furious cries, the clansmen charged again, with Robert at the fore. This time, the whoremaster decided to run. Despite their great ages, Ian and Donal followed, the guardsmen running close behind, curious to find out what would happen next. Richie was surprised to see Methos merely strolling after the Chieftain and his brother.

"Adam, why don't you hurry up?" Richie asked, walking alongside the Ancient, confused by his relaxed demeanor. "What if Shinno gets hurt? Aren't you worried about him?"

"For awhile there, I was," admitted Methos. "But I do know now that Shinno could defeat them all."

"How could you be so sure?"

"It's an old Japanese trick," the Horseman explained. "You run and you let your pursuers chase you. Each of your opponents have different stamina. The stronger ones would naturally race on ahead of the pack, while the rest begin to lag behind from the effort of trying to catch up with the leaders. That's when you turn and attack."

"You mean you dispatch the enemies who are ahead, the ones who are closest to you?"

"Uh huh!" Methos nodded. Pouting to a small cottage with a haystack beside it, he suggested, "Why don't you climb up there and have a look? I'm sure Shinno will be doing something more spectacular as the chase wears on. You might as well have a bird's eye view."

Taking his elder's advice, Richie ran for the cottage. Scurrying up the haystack, he climbed onto the roof. At once, a smile lit up his face.

As Methos had said, Duncan was indeed drawing the stronger runners away from the main group. Three Scots rapidly closed the distance, but the whoremaster was ready for them. Skidding to a halt, Duncan made a graceful pirouette. As he spun on his toe, he landed a strong cop on the back of the neck of one man. The second he whacked down to the ground with the flat of his blade. Duncan felled the third Scot with a kick. Before he could drop to the dirt, the concubine used the man he had kicked as a vault to launch himself into the air. Flipping his sword, he grasped it by its blade. Spiraling downward, Duncan dispatched four more men with hilt blows to the face.

"Casualty count, Richie," Methos inquired from the elated young Englishman.

"Ten plus seven..." Richie made a quick calculation. "Seventeen!"

The Ancient's brows raised in surprise. "Not bad! Not bad at all! Where are they headed?"

"I think they're going to the stables."

"Ooh! Closed quarters!" Methos grimaced and made an exaggerated shudder. "Dangerous place. Men, swords, horses..."

 

Inside the stables, Thanatos and Denko were getting bored from living in the lap of luxury. Fresh hay, fresh water served morning, noon and night to them, figuratively speaking, on silver platters and troughs...they weren't used to this kind of life. At least, Moeru and Chester were doing something for a change by being protectors of Duncan's beloved mother. One of the advantages of being midgets. The two restless war steeds were dreaming of wide open spaces, furious battles....

The stallions almost jumped when the door to the stables crashed open, and Duncan ran inside, pursued by a motley crew of six Highlanders. Denko was even more surprised to see his Master wielding the magical green sword.

Because of the cramped space, this time, there was no place for Duncan to run. Still, the concubine fought hard, allowing his adversaries to drive him closer and closer toward the seemingly placing horses. A side glance and a quick wink to Denko and Thanatos, and wicked grins curled up the stallions' lips.

Just as he neared the horses, Duncan somersaulted above the Scots' heads. With the Highlanders thus distracted by the concubine's aerial passage, the war steeds swiftly turned around. Six hard kicks later, six Scots totally demolished one entire wall of the stables.

Duncan bestowed kisses on the stallions and said, "Thank you!" Just as he dashed through the ruined wall, Thanatos and Denko whinnied their thanks as well to their Master for that bit of action.

 

At that moment, the two objects of the war steeds' jealousy were indulging in a new pastime. With coin purse hunting prohibited in the Highlands, not to mention chasing a certain bitchy redhead for her smelly knickers, what's a mini horse and dachshund to do to find amusements? It's not as if Moeru and Chester intended to abandon their favorite hobbies. But while their quest for purse materials and Scottish bloomers were causing trouble for their poor young Master, they decided to try a different, but just as risky activity, namely bread pilfering from Elspeth's kitchen. True, Mama Mary MacLeod always made certain that there was an extra bun or two for them during breakfast, but there was nothing like a little thievery to heat up one's blood for misadventure.

Their first two attempts were met by an irate housekeeper who chased them out of the kitchen with a huge rolling pin. If it wasn't Elspeth, it was the big fat cook of the keep herself who would run them out with a cleaver.

However, as the saying went, "Practice makes perfect." The two babies started with one bun, and then two, then four. They went on to stealing whole loaves from the pantry. Just minutes earlier, the younglings graduated to grand theft.

Like the perfect partners-in-crime, Chester and Moeru were lugging a basket of honey glazed bread, gripping the handle with their teeth. The babies trotted over to their favorite spot -- an elm tree not to far from the stables, hoping to share their stolen meal with Thanatos and Denko. Of course, they only intended to give the two stallions a bun each. Laying the basket down, they settled down and each took a bun daintily between their lips. Toasting each other's accomplishments, Moeru and Chester readied themselves to consume their tasty treats.

Suddenly, their feast was interrupted by a familiar voice, shouting, "Out of the way, younglings! Get out of the way!"

With the buns still protruding from their mouths, the babies' eyes widened in alarm, seeing their Master heading toward them. Before he could collide with the younglings, Duncan shimmied up into the elm tree. Then, Moeru and Chester found themselves surrounded by four angry Scots. In their clumsy attempts to climb the tree, the men ended up trampling into the dirt the meal that the mini horse and the dachshund had worked so hard to steal. When they squawked a protest, the buns fell out of their mouths and were immediately ground underfoot by boot heels. That last was too much for the babies to take.

The Highlanders instantly when they heard low growls at their feet. Slowly, they looked down to find a midget horse and a sausage dog snarling up at them. Before two of them could get away, Chester sank his teeth into the ankle of one man while Moeru gave a fierce back kick to the other. Having disabled two men, the babies turned their attention to the remaining two. As the Scots turned around to flee, they howled in pain as Moeru and Chester bit them in their not-so-bonny behinds, clinging like a pair of monkeys.

Duncan grimaced, seeing what was happening below. Before the younglings could get it into their fiendish little heads to get more coin purse material, the concubine jumped down from the tree and knocked the two men out with the pommel of his sword. Still, Moeru and Chester would not let go, gnawing on the unconscious men's butts, while shaking their heads furiously.

"Now, that's enough, you two!" the whoremaster ordered sternly. "It's not fair to chew a man to pieces when he's down."

Chester and Moeru gazed up at his through tear-filled black eyes. Sobbing, they nodded to their precious meal now ruined in the dirt.

Ruffling their ears, Duncan smiled and remarked, "Did you think I was going to let them destroy your delicious honey buns?" From within his ninja uniform, the concubine pulled out four buns which he had earlier swiped from their basket when he made the ascent into the tree.

A tear falling from the corners of their eyes, Moeru and Chester took the sweet bread from their Master's hands, whinnying and yapping their thanks.

Bestowing sweet kisses upon them, Duncan said, "I'll see you later, little ones. I still have five more men to contend with."

Saying this, the whoremaster went back up into the tree. Trotting a few paces away from the elm, the babies saw their young master nimbly leaping from rooftop to rooftop. For a moment, Chester and Moeru looked at each other. Eating their buns quickly, they hurried after Duncan.

 

"My lady! My lady!"

Mary stopped from her grooming to look at Elspeth who was jumping up and down excitedly at the balcony. "What is it, Elspeth? Are we being invaded?"

The housekeeper shook her head. "Nay, my lady! 'Tis the Easterner...yer healer! The one they call Shinno!"

Mary felt her heart stop, hearing Shinno's name. "What about Shinno? Is he in trouble? Oh, please tell me he's not in trouble!" Fearing for her kind healer, she limped toward the balcony. Elspeth immediately went to assist her.

At that minute, Debra Campbell appeared, cautiously eyeing the two women. In her hands, she held a tray with drugged soup. Laying the tray on the table, she padded quietly behind them, curious as well to see what was going on.

"I don't think he's in trouble exactly, although the men are chasing him," Elspeth explained haltingly. "But I don't think he's..."

"Oh, Elspeth! What are ye babblin' on about?"

As if disbelieving what she had just seen, the housekeeper blurted out, "He's flying, my lady! The Easterner is flying!"

Gazing down from the balcony, Mary gasped at the sight she beheld below. Indeed, Shinno was being chased by five Highlanders, one of them being Robert MacLeod. What was astounding was that the young healer was, as Elspeth said, flying. Well, perhaps not exactly flying. Shinno was gliding from cottage to cottage, his feet barely touching the fragile roofs, and leaped several feet into the air, jumping over the walls of the keep, going back inside. Delighted by what she was watching, Mary began to clap her hands.

Hearing her applause, Duncan's head lifted to look at her. Then, the Easterner accomplished a more amazing feat. Snatching a sunflower from a servant's bundle, the concubine proceeded to scale the wall of the tower, like a black spider.

Reaching the balcony, Duncan gallantly offered his mother the flower, which Mary coyly took. However, his face darkened in a scowl, seeing Debra standing behind his mother, his sharp eyes falling upon the bowl of soup. Swiftly, he pulled out a shuriken and threw it at the tray, sending the tray and the bowl smashing to the floor.

Before Elspeth could make a cry of outrage, Duncan pointed an angry finger at Debra. "If I told you once, I told you a thousand times, stay away from the Lady Mary. If I even see your shadow, the next time I throw my knife, I'll make certain that it finds its mark in your filthy carcass."

That threat elicited a snarl of fury from Debra, who flounced out of the room in search of her fiance.

"Don't let that woman near my lady!" the concubine firmly ordered a startled Elspeth, and swiftly made his descent to ground level, where the five remaining Highlanders, including Robert, were waiting for him.

The minute that Duncan's feet hit the ground, the whoremaster decided that it was now time to make a stand. In a cry of rage, he fought back against the men, returning their thrusts and hacks with fierce swipes of his own. More agile, the whoremaster downed one man with a sharp elbow into his mid section. His second adversary tried to distract him from the approach of a third Scot behind him. But Duncan noticed him out of the corner of his face. Making a graceful aerial somersault, he leaped out of the way that the Scot at his back collided with the man he was fighting with. The fourth he easily dispatched with a twirl and a sharp twist of his blade.

Now, there was only Robert MacLeod left.

Breathless, Duncan said, grinning, "I guess it's just you and me now, Robert," his jade sword poised in readiness before his tormentor.

Robert dropped his broadsword and darted toward the weapon that was propped against the sentry box -- a huge claymore.

"Aye!" the Scot breathed in maniacal glee. "'Tis just ye an' me. Let's see if yer wee blade is any match for this giant sword o' the Highlands."

The clash of swords greeted Donal, Ian and Richie and an ambling Methos when they entered the keep. Following behind them were the battered and humbled clansmen. Moeru and Chester had appeared as well, eagerly watching the mismatched battle between the jade sword and the blade that was thrice its size. Even Thanatos and Denko had gone out of the stables to see what was going on. Up in the balcony, Mary held her breath as she watched the two men duel furiously.

Suddenly, Duncan tripped on a rock that he fell on his butt to the ground. Seizing his opportunity, Robert slowly raised his claymore above his head.

"I guess this is the end for ye, whore!" the Scot howled triumphantly.

Before Ian could order a halt to the fight, the concubine rolled out of the way and leaped to his feet. Then, a most shocking thing occurred. Swinging his green blade down in an arc, Duncan's sword cut through the blade of the claymore. Stunned, Robert watched as the broken tip went flying through the air, the point embedding itself in the dirt at the Chieftain's feet.

With a fierce battle cry, Duncan twirled his jade sword in the air and swung it down, the sharp edge stopping at Robert's neck. His hand tightening on the hilt, the whoremaster leaned close to the angry Scot.

Debra emerged from the keep at that moment. Seeing her lover in trouble, she made to storm toward them, but Moeru and Chester immediately blocked her path. Undaunted, Debra proceeded to pull out a sharp dagger from within the pocket of her skirt. Thanatos and Denko, however, went to the babies side, their eyes blazing with the desire to do the woman harm. Defeated, Debra tucked her dagger back inside.

"This exercise is over, Gentlemen! I see that you still have much to learn!" Duncan declared to the defeated men. He then hissed in Robert's ear, "How does it feel to be beaten by a man you call 'whore', Robert MacLeod? Do not try my patience. The next time you foul my temper, I will finish what I started here."

Saying this, Duncan released the Scot, who sagged to the ground in shock. Granting his father and his uncle solemn bows, he made to go back inside the keep, where his mother was waiting for him in the tower.

Nearing his loyal pets, the whoremaster patted the two stallions. "Again, my thanks for keeping this harridan in line," he told Thanatos and Denko. The war steeds whinnied and nodded their heads in reply. Turning to the babies, he said, "Moeru, Chester, you two come with me. The Lady Mary awaits us." Sharp brown eyes focused on Debra's frightened orbs. "Go to your fiancé, Debra Campbell. Let this be a lesson to both of you. I'm not a man to be trifled with. Remember that."

In reply, Debra spitefully spat in his face, the gesture causing Moeru and Chester to leap threateningly at her. Quickly, the young woman hurried to her lover's side.

The concubine was immediately approached by a grinning Methos, who handed the ornate wooden scabbard of the jade sword to him. As he sheathed the sword, the Ancient blurted out the question that was on his mind, "Shinno, where in heaven's name did you get the Green Destiny?"

"You mean this?" Duncan asked innocently, raising one of his favorite weapons. "It was a gift to me by my two teachers, Yu Shu Lien and Li Mu Bai, five years ago."

"Li Mu Bai?" Methos queried in shock, as his lover entered the keep. Running after him, he argued, "But Li Mu Bai's been dead for centuries!"

"Are ye all right, Robert?" Debra asked her fiancé in concern.

Robert MacLeod didn't answer. Instead, he gave the Easterner who had just shamed him a venomous glare.

Gritting his teeth, he muttered under his breath, "I will no' forget this, whore! I swear I'll have my revenge!"


	10. Chapter 59

 

**CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE**

 

Methos and Richie watched in reverent silence as Duncan wrapped the Green Destiny carefully in silk and hid it once more in the false bottom of his trunk.

"What kind of sword is that?" Richie asked, unable to disguise his awe.

"It's a Chinese long sword -- called _a chuan_ or 'dragon' sword," the whoremaster answered in a casual tone of voice. "It's just an ordinary blade."

"You certainly have a flare for understatement, Shinno," a grimacing Methos remarked. "That green blade is centuries old. It was made during the Chin Dynasty. You won't see any blades like this, with a design flowing along the sword's length, even in China any more."

"Is it a magic sword?" the young Englishman inquired.

"No, Richie," Duncan said smiling. "What makes a sword special is the person who wields it."

The Ancient continued, "Now I detect a little pride in your words. You see, Richie, the Green Destiny is wielded only by the best fighters from the monastery of Wudan. The last Wudan master who used this sword is the great fighter, Li Mu Bai.

"That's where you're wrong, Adam. The last person to wield the Green Destiny was actually a young woman, a daughter of a governor named Yu Jen.

Hearing that last, Methos exclaimed in surprise, "You're joking, right? A woman?"

But the concubine shook his head.

Curiously, Richie asked, "Why? What's wrong if she was a woman? I know some women who are excellent swordsmen in England."

"Wudan masters strictly teach men, not women, following a tragedy involving a woman who desired to train with them named Jade Fox," Duncan explained. "Jade Fox not only murdered Li Mu Bai's teacher, Master Te, she also stole one of their manuals. She passed on the manual to Jen, who was a learned young woman, hoping that she would teach her the secret techniques of Wudan. But Jen had a different agenda in mind. Rather than teach her governess the style, she withheld the information from her. In the end, it was Jen who became the Wudan master and not Jade Fox."

"Why would she do that?"

"Women of that time, especially those born into a wealthy family, were doomed to live a life dictated by her parents and society. Jen was supposed to marry a rich young man, but she desired freedom and a Mongolian bandit named Lo. The only way she could achieve this was by transforming herself into a Giang Hu fighter, a kind of mercenary for hire. Of course, what better weapon to use than the famous Green Destiny, which she stole from the close friend a battle-weary Li Mu Bai entrusted it to in Beijing. Li Mu Bai and his lady friend and fellow mercenary Shu Lien tried to get the sword back, but they were either thwarted by Jade Fox or by Jen herself. Li Mu Bai saw how great Jen was and was determined to bring her with him to Wudan for further training. However, in the end, he died when he was stung by Jade Fox's poisoned needle. Jen did eventually go to Wudan, but she committed suicide. As for the Green Destiny, Shu Lien had it to returned to Li Mu Bai's friend in Beijing for safekeeping."

"Which is where the Green Destiny is supposed to be up to now," added Methos. "So why do you have it, Shinno?"

"It's a very long story, something which is better told during a quiet night. Just remind me to tell you when we have less pressing matters."

Richie eyed the trunk where the Green Destiny was hidden. "Aren't you afraid that somebody might steal it?"

"They won't have much use for it if they do," Duncan answered simply. "Since Jen died, the Green Destiny had developed a reputation of being a cursed weapon. No man has been able to wield it for long, most of them dying a most violent death. It was said that the spirit of Li Mu Bai himself will be the one to choose who would be the rightful owner of the sword."

"Are you saying that Li Mu Bai chose you?" Richie asked, with a dubious raise of his eyebrows.

Smiling enigmatically, the concubine replied, "You said it, Richie, not I."

The impetuous youth was not convinced. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

"Believe what you will." Duncan became serious. "Right now, we have more important matters to discuss."

Methos agreed. "You said you saw Robert MacLeod talking to someone in the forest. Did you see who it was?"

"No," said Richie with regret. "He always wore a black hooded cloak. I couldn't see his face. I wanted to get a closer look, but the man must have eyes in the back of his head. He always senses when I'm around."

The two men gave each other meaningful glances. This confirmed what they both suspected, that there was a mysterious Immortal roaming the woods. What was worse was that this Immortal was in league with Robert MacLeod.

"Richie, did you hear them say anything?" Methos inquired.

"Usually, they talk in hushed voices. You couldn't hear a single word of what they're saying. But the last time I followed MacLeod, the hooded man was furious, shouting that he would not allow Robert to harm him."

"Did they get into a fight?" asked Duncan. "Was the 'him' the hooded man was referring to Robert?"

"I'm sure he was talking about someone else, but they never mentioned his name."

"Could it be the Chieftain perhaps?" the Ancient suggested.

"I don't think so," Richie mused with a shake of his head. "They would have more to gain if old Ian were dead." The young Englishman frowned in sudden remembrance. "But Robert did mention something."

"What was it?' Methos prodded the youngster.

"Robert promised that he would give the hooded man a memento of some sort."

The former Horseman heard the soft gasp of his lover. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the whoremaster walk toward the window, seemingly to brood. But Methos had seen the pallor of Duncan's face and that unconscious brush of trembling fingers over his now short hair.

"Thank you, Richie," Duncan said quietly. "You've been very helpful."

"I'll continue tailing Robert MacLeod," Richie said firmly. "See if I could find out more."

"Richie, remember what I told you," Methos reminded him.

With a salute, the youngster reassured them, "Yes, I'll be careful." He then left the concubine's chamber, closing the door behind him.

"The hooded man," Duncan mumbled, gazing out into the sky. "He wants me. I'm willing to bet that my hair that Debra had cut is now with him."

Methos went to his lover's side. "We're not sure of that yet. However, I must give you the same warning that I had given Richie. Duncan, you've made a lot of enemies today."

Suddenly, the door opened and Donal MacLeod strode inside. As he locked the door, he remarked at the Ancient's last comment, "The only enemy tha' Duncan has ta worry about are Robert and Debra. I've talked to the men. None o' them hold a grudge against you for what happened today. In fact, they've expressed a keen interest in learning the Eastern style o' fighting."

"That's good." Methos then asked in curiosity, "How long have you know who we were?"

"Actually, I didn't, until ma dear nephew here started bawlin' his eyes out o'er his hair. But ye, Methos, are a different matter. 'Tis hard ta believe at first tha' ye have no' aged a day since I last saw ye, an' tha' was twenty five years ago." Confidentially, Donal mumbled, "Howe'er, I had the fortune years back o' meeting our great clansman, Connor MacLeod."

The concubine slowly turned to look at his uncle. "You've met Connor MacLeod? But, uncle, he's just a legend from my grandfather's time."

"Oh, he's real all right, an' he's also Immortal." Donal winked at the Horsemen. "I take it ye're Immortal as well, Methos."

There was no point in denying it. Grinning, the Ancient confirmed, "Yes, I'm Immortal, and so's Duncan."

"I guess Immortality runs in our family then." The old Scot beamed mischievously at his nephew, "Laddie, perhaps ye cad share a year or two with yer uncle."

"If only I could do that uncle," Duncan said with deep regret. "Not only will I share a little of my life and healing gift with you, but also with my Papa and Mama."

"Ye've always had a generous heart, but I'm glad tha' ye're unable ta share life eternal. I desire an end ta my existence, go on to the afterlife. As for yer father, he's a superstitious old fool. He'd banish ye all over again."

"Where's Connor now?" Methos asked.

"To be honest, I don't know. That day I saw him, he told me tha' he was goin' on a long journey." With great admiration, Donal said, "Ye men should have met him. Connor's a good man."

"I'm sure he is." The whoremaster went on, "We suspect that there's another Immortal lurking hereabouts, who's in league with Robert. Richie described him as a man wearing a hooded cloak. He didn't see his face, so we have no idea what he looks like."

"So ye have Richie in on this too," Donal nodded approvingly. "I knew he wad be good for somethin' other than a man to be ridiculed in this clan. Ye did tell him ta be careful though. Richie tends to be hotheaded an' reckless sometimes."

"I warned him of the danger," Methos reassured the old Highlander. "We won't let anything happen to him."

Before the Ancient could mention the possible danger to Duncan's life, the concubine interjected, "Richie knows what he's doing. That young man is a lot smarter than we give him credit for."

Donal wagged a warning finger at them. "But I want ye two ta be careful as well. Don't ye think we should tell your father about this?"

"Not until we have more information and we have ascertained the identity of the hooded man. For now, the only thing we can do is to be vigilant."

With a sigh, Donal said, "I guess you're right. I'll see if I could learn something as well."

The old Scot was about leave when Methos called, "Donal..."

Pausing at the doorway, Donal smiled. "Don't worry. Yer secret is safe with me."

When the elder Highlander was gone, the Ancient asked his lover, "Duncan, why didn't you let me tell him that the hooded man may be after you?"

"Believe me, Methos," Duncan said dryly. "Knowing that I'm in trouble is the quickest way for my uncle to reveal our secret to my father. It's better this way."

Methos gazed at the younger man. "I won't let anything happen to you, Duncan."

"Except for my life, I have nothing more to lose, remember?"

"If you think I'm going to let you return to your former life, you're wrong."

Duncan smiled at the other Immortal. "I have no intention of returning to that life, Methos. I'm free now. I won't let anyone take this away from me."

Methos took the concubine's hand, about to pull the young Immortal into his tender embrace. Remembering where they were, however, the Ancient settled for a gentle squeeze.

"This abstinence from sex is a huge strain on my nerves."

"Yes, Methos, I know." Nodding toward the door, Duncan giggled, "And I think they know it too."

The Ancient turned to find the mischievous heads of Moeru and Chester peeking through the doorway. Both babies were panting hard, making lascivious swipes of their tongues.

"Why, you little perverts!" The heads of the mini horse and the dachshund retreated as Methos raced after them. "Come back here, you two!"

As he watched them disappear down the stairway, Duncan became somber. Firmly, he bowed again, "I swear I won't let anyone take my freedom away from me."

 

Unknown to Richie, another clandestine rendezvous was at that moment taking place in Donan Woods.

To the chagrin of Robert MacLeod and Debra Campbell, the hooded man burst into laughter after hearing what had happened to them at the hands of the Eastern warrior, Shinno.

"I do no' find this amusing!" Debra declared hotly.

"He made fools out of you!" the hooded man chuckled, holding his aching belly. "That is _very_ amusing!" Turning to a fuming Robert, he said, "It seems you've finally met your match, MacLeod!"

"He just caught me off guard, that's all," snorted a sullen Robert.

"This Shinno is superior fighter than you. Mark my words on this, MacLeod. You'll never triumph over him."

"Perhaps if I steal tha' blasted green sword o' his."

"A sword does not a swordsman make. You lack the skill."

"How can we get rid o' them?" complained Debra. "They're ruinin' all our plans. I was already so close ta finishin' off Mary MacLeod."

"In case ye've forgotten, my friend," Robert pointedly reminded his ally, "we nearly succeeded in killing Ian in tha' ambush as well if they hadn't interfered."

"This is just a temporary setback," the hooded man reassured them. "We shall continue with our plans to rid ourselves of the Chieftain, his wife and all those who are loyal to them. Once we capture the stronghold of the Clan MacLeod, the conquest of the others clans is a mere step away."

"But what must we do about Adam an' Shinno?" Debra asked insistently.

The hooded man stood up from his seat on the tree stump. "I will personally deal with them. Of course, Adam should be dispatched post haste. There's no need to prolong his damned life. But Shinno is a different matter." He could barely disguise his lust for the young warrior. "Ah, I have plans for him!"

Debra cried in fury, "Shinno deserves ta die along with Adam, an' also those devilish creatures o' his! I want them dead, him especially!"

At that retort, the hooded man's hand reached out in a flash, fingers tightening around her throat.

"I do not want Shinno harmed in any way, you red-headed bitch!" he hissed in her face. "If he dies because of you, I'll hound you to your grave!" The hooded man then released her abruptly, leaving Debra gasping for breath.

Going toward Robert, the hooded man handed a small vial to him. "Put this in Shinno's wine. I don't care how you do it, but he must drink this."

"What is this?" Robert stared at the vial, frowning. "Poison?"

"No. Just a very potent drug to make him more...loose. If you succeed, you'll see what it could do. In fact, it is this drug that might put him in a bad light with Ian MacLeod. I've heard that the Chieftain abhors any form of scandal."

The Scot grinned wickedly. "Aye! Tha's true!"

"Let me be the one ta put the drug in Shinno's wine," Debra eagerly volunteered. "This way, I wad have my revenge upon him."

"If that is your wish," the hooded man said. "But don't forget, Debra Campbell. I will not tolerate failure."

"I won't." From within her pouch, Debra produced her gift to their ally in the destruction of the Clan MacLeod."This is for ye. A simple token of our loyalty an' friendship ta ye."

The hooded man took the decorated braid made out of Shinno's long brown hair. Pressing it to his cheek, he could smell the gentle scent of mountain blossoms in those soft, silky strands.

"It won't be long, Shinno," he mumbled dreamily. "I swear you shall be mine!"


	11. Chapter 60

**CHAPTER SIXTY**

 

"I don't think this is wise, my Lady. My place is at your side. Besides, I have no interest in any form of revelry."

Duncan was scowling at his reflection in the mirror. Despite his shorter mane, Mary MacLeod was having great pleasure in running her brush through his soft hair.

"Do ye know tha' ye sound like my son?" Mary smiled, relishing the silk of his tresses. "He also hated dining wi' the men in the Main Hall. Duncan may socialize sometimes, but more often than no', he prefers ta be alone. Duncan was such a brooder."

"If I'm like your son, then you must understand my sentiments about this, which could be expressed in four very simple words: I don't want to go." The concubine emphasized each of those words.

Duncan yelped as his mother tapped the brush on his head. Seeing what their beloved lady did to their pouting young master, Moeru and Chester snickered wickedly.

"What's so funny?" the whoremaster glared at the babies, who quickly assumed innocent expressions on their faces.

"Don't pick on those two, Shinno!" Mary then began patiently, "After all those amazing things ye did this morning, 'tis only right tha' ye dine wi' the warriors this eve."

"It was nothing."

"It may seem nothing ta ye, but ye 'ave made an impression on everyone. Besides, Ian insists on yer joining them."

"Ah, so I'm being coerced now to leave my patient!"

"But I won't be alone." She gestured to the grinning younglings. "Chester an' Moeru are excellent company. They're like wee children."

"Just wait for them to catch a whiff of Elspeth's bread. They'll abandon you in an instant for a quick food raid in the kitchen."

"Oh, they wouldn't do tha'! I've taken the liberty o' askin' Elspeth to have a servant bring up a tray full of assorted pastries an' milk." Mary ruffled the ears of her favorite babies. "They won't be goin' anywhere."

Duncan grimaced, his eyes falling on the noticeable and ever growing bulge on the bellies of the mini horse and the dachshund. "Of course they won't be going anywhere! They've become fat. I doubt if they could be able to make even a single step if you continue to pamper them like this."

"No, they won't get fat!" his mother defended the spoiled younglings. Winking at Moeru and Chester, she said, "They always get a good exercise whene'er Elspeth or the cook chase them out o' the kitchen, an' ye always get away don't ye!"

Chester and Moeru nodded in wholehearted approval.

Glaring at the happy woman, the concubine asked, "Did you used to spoil Duncan like this?"

"Aye!" Mary beamed with happiness. "An' I loved every minute o' it!"

"Then perhaps you could spoil me a bit, my Lady, and not force me to eat with the men this eve," Duncan wheedled his mother, batting his eyelashes at her.

But Mary insisted, "Ah, don't give me tha' look! I swear ye're just like my Duncan sometimes. He always used ta do tha' thing with his eyes. You, my dear young man, are going down ta the Main Hall an' tha's final!"

Duncan sighed in surrender. Standing from his perch on the stool, he exclaimed, "All right! I give up! I'm going right now!"

"Hold it!" his mother suddenly cried, causing him to stop before he could even make a single step toward the door.

"Now what!" the whoremaster growled, turning to face the Lady of the Keep.

Cheerfully, Mary remarked, "Ye're no' goin' down dressed like tha'."

Duncan glanced down at his favorite light brown desert attire. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"You need ta wear somethin' special." Mary skipped merrily toward her cabinet and opened the door. "I asked permission from Adam earlier. I took the liberty o' rummagin' through yer things for somethin' nice for ye ta wear, an' I found this." She then pulled the garment that had caught her eye. Even Moeru and Chester nodded in approval at her excellent choice.

The concubine stared aghast at what his mother held in her hands. "You have to be kidding! I'm not wearing that!"

However, there was a look of determination in Mary's eye, something which he hadn't seen in twenty five years. The little boy who was once the Lady's child instantly cowered back from the might of his beloved mother.

 

"Now where is Shinno?" Ian boomed in his ale. Clapping a heavy hand on Methos' back, he said, "I'd say, Adam, tha' young friend o' yours is a shy one."

"Aye, he is that, my Lord!" Methos replied, thankful that he hadn't choked from that slap. "However, in this case, I think he is more concerned for the welfare of the Lady of the Keep."

"Mary has certainly blossomed under his care," Donal put in. "She used ta be as wan as a ghost. But now, the color has returned ta her cheeks, and she's gettin' stronger everyday."

With a smirk, Methos observed Robert and Debra out of the corner of his eye. "I think the food she's been eating these past few years have been most disagreeable to her."

The Ancient was immediately rewarded by fierce scowls from the two lovers.

Donal winked at Methos. "Nay, Adam! 'Tis Shinno's tender loving care tha' did the trick!"

"Still," Ian began with genuine regret, "I do wish he wad join us at dinner tonight. I do no' want him ta think tha' I'm makin' him slave ta the bone, carin' for my beloved wife..." He glared at his abashed clansmen. "An' teach my men a thing or two abou' fighting. Tha' was a most impressive display o' Eastern fighting skills. In all my life, I've ne'er seen a man fly through the air."

"That ability comes with years and years of hard training, meditation and determination," said Methos with great pride. "Of those three, it's the third quality that Shinno possesses in abundance."

"I could see that." There was a distant expression on the Chieftain's face. "Sometimes, Shinno reminds me of..."

Methos gave Ian a meaningful look. "Of who, my Lord?"

The Ancient was certain that the Chieftain would answer him -- that the Eastern warrior reminded him of his son, but before Ian could do so, there was a chuckle from Donal.

Whispering to the two men, he pouted toward the doors. "Guess who has finally decided to appear?"

As one, Ian and Methos gazed in the direction of the doors. Sure enough, a pair of hesitant doe eyes were peeking through the crack.

Suddenly, with a surprised cry, Duncan stumbled through the doors. Rubbing his aching behind, he glowered at the grinning mini horse and dachshund who had pushed him inside the Main Hall. He was about to give the babies a scolding, when he realized that all surprised eyes in the hall were focused on him.

At the sight of his lover, Methos beamed, pleased by Mary MacLeod's choice of garment for the young man whom she did not know was her son.

Duncan was dressed in an elegant blue caftan. Embroidered on the front of the garden was a lovely mountain scenery, complete with clouds and a rising sun between them. At the back was a prancing stag, rearing up on its hind legs, front hooves kicking out. Unlike his other caftans, there were long slits on the sleeves, extending from the shoulder down to the cuffs at his wrists, that the lengths of his arms were bared. Two more slits reached from hip to ankle. Underneath, the concubine wore skin tight trousers, which only accentuated the graceful curves of his long legs.

The whoremaster turned pale, a stricken expression in his sweet eyes. For a moment, Methos feared that his lover was going to bolt.

But then, one of the Scots from the training field exclaimed, "We're so glad tha' ye cad join us, Master Shinno! Indeed, ye make such a refreshin' vision amongst us. Why, ye're much prettier than Debra Campbell!"

At that last, the men roared with laughter, except for Robert MacLeod whose face had darkened at that insult. Debra herself stood up from her seat and huffily left the dining hall in a flurry of skirts.

Duncan gaped at the Highlanders who cheered for him and urged him to join them. Then, a glorious smile lit up his face, a glimmer of tears in his orbs. Methos thought that his lover was going to burst into tears of joy. After all, this was the clan acceptance that the whoremaster had been dreaming of for the past twenty five years. It took gentle head butts from Moeru and Chester to prod their stupefied master to take his appointed place at the head table. The Ancient even vacated his seat so that a blushing Duncan could sit beside his father.

When the concubine had finally settled down at the head table, everyone's attention focused on the mischievous babies in their midst.

"Look who we have here, men!" an old Scot chortled. "The wee raiders of the keep's kitchen!"

"Isn't ole Sarah's cookin' good enough for ye?" another Highlander kidded. "Ye 'ave no' grown a single inch since ye arrived here!"

Chester menacingly growled at the man at that insult, his teeth bared. Moeru, however, nudged his compatriot to be silent. Casually, the mini horse trotted toward the table, his ebony eyes focused on the honey bread that one of the men was eating.

Noting the colt's intense stare, the Scot asked, "Do ye want a piece, boy?", and threw a scrap on the floor at Moeru's hooves.

The midget horse, however, merely snorted at that measly tidbit. With a quick nod to the dachshund, the babies leaped onto the table.

Before either Methos or Duncan could order the younglings to get down from the table, there were low melodious sounds of flatus being passed out, followed by a most noxious odor. As the Highlanders voiced out their disgust in colorful Gaelic, pinching their noses close while they waved their free hands to dispel the smell, Moeru and Chester took advantage of the distraction and bit the large bread basket's handles. To the astonishment of all, the infamous kitchen thieves of the Clan MacLeod elevated themselves to the rank of dining hall robbers. As if nothing had happened, the babies toddled outside the Main Hall, tails wagging, with their precious prize.

When they were gone, Duncan slapped his hand to his forehead in exasperation. Looking at his father, he offered, "My Lord, I sincerely apologize for the embarrassment those two did."

"Ye 'ave nothin' ta be sorry for. Those wee younglings certainly livened things up. 'Tis been a very long time since we laughed like this." Ian took the concubine's hand, surprising him. With a pat and a gentle smile, he said, "I'm very happy tha' ye cad join us for supper, Shinno."

Beaming as well, Duncan graciously replied, "My Lord, I'm very pleased to be with you all this evening."

With a wave of his hand, Ian ordered the wine to be brought forth. When the goblets had been distributed by the servants, he stood up to make the toast.

The Chieftain raised his cup to the two men who had been of great service to his clan. "To Adam and Shinno!"

All the Highlanders got to their feet and cheered, "To Adam and Shinno!"

In acknowledgment, Methos and Duncan stood up. Toasting his father, the concubine declared, "To Ian MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod! Hail to the Chieftain!"

"All hail!" they cried as they proceeded to drink.

Unknown to Duncan, two pairs of eyes watched eagerly as he consumed his wine to the last drop. When the whoremaster had set down his empty goblet, there was a sinister smile on Robert's face, while Debra was beside herself with glee at the doorway to the kitchen.

The only things they needed to do now were to watch and wait.

 

Their entertainment turned out to be a traveling band of gypsies whom Ian had given permission to camp within the domain of the Clan MacLeod. The gypsies delighted their audience with songs, acrobatics and dances.

But Methos' attention was not on them. Instead, his green gold eyes were focused on the younger man beside him.

Duncan had only drunk three cups of wine, but the concubine had the appearance of a man who had imbibed a full barrel. His cheeks and lips were rosy, a drunken smile curling up the corners of his mouth. The whoremaster had laid his chin on his cupped hands, elbows on the table. Through bleary eyes, Duncan gazed with rapt interest on the woman who was dancing the bolero, clicking castanets in her hands.

When she ended her dance with an elegant pose, left foot extended and arms arched above her head, the concubine suddenly rose from his seat. Going toward the gypsy, he whispered something in her ear, which made the woman smile and press the castanets into his hands. As she approached the musicians, the whoremaster bowed before his father, uncle and his clansmen.

"Allow me to entertain you, my Lord," Duncan said, assuming the opening stance of the flamenco.

Methos watched nervously as his lover began with those graceful hand and arm movements, followed by the sharp tap of his toe on the floor. The Ancient frowned at the concubine's choice of dance, because the flamenco, like the bolero, was very suggestive.

However, as the whoremaster's performance progressed, to Methos' growing trepidation, he realized that Duncan was not dancing a pure form of flamenco, but was improvising, mixing the dance's snappy footwork, with erotic hand movements and hip swaying that were more commonly seen in Arabian dances. It was only a matter of time before the young Immortal surrendered himself completely to the call of utter abandonment.

Sure enough, from the flamenco, Duncan gyrated his hips in the more sensuous desert dance, his belly undulating like a graceful snake. Methos' eyes slowly grew as round as the plate laid before him, seeing his lover's fingertips flutter from his neck down to his waist, buttons opening in its wake. With a quick tug, he untied the sash at his waist that the caftan opened wide to reveal his bare torso. A quick glance at his seat mates revealed to the Ancient a slack-jawed Donal and a mortified Ian. In fact, everyone in the Main Hall were staring at the dancer before them in shock. The former Horseman scowled darkly, noticing that the only two people who were pleased with the concubine's obscene performance were Robert MacLeod and Debra Campbell.

Gritting his teeth, Methos stood up, the legs of his chair screeching against the floor, and took his cloak. Swiftly, he strode toward the dancing figure, flinging his cloak around the younger man's body.

"Duncan, stop it!" Methos hissed in his ear. "Stop it right now!"

But the concubine complained, "Why is it so hot, Adam? It's so damned hot!" Bursting into giggles, he murmured suggestively, "Do you want to fuck me, Methos? It's been so long since we've made love. Why don't we do it right here? Right now." He even ground his erection against a stunned Ancient's crotch.

"I'm sorely tempted, my sweet," Methos whispered. "But I don't think your father would approve."

Before he could get a firm hold on his lover, Duncan broke free from his grasp and fled from the chamber.

The Ancient barely heard the commotion that arose at the whoremaster's abrupt departure, as he raced after the whoremaster. Just as he reached the main hallway, he saw the front door slam shut. The minute Methos exited those doors, Duncan had already passed through the gates, the sentries he had shoved, lying startled on the ground, not knowing what had just happened. When Methos emerged at the drawbridge, the concubine was nowhere in sight.

"Shinno!" the Horseman shouted out to his lover, but no answer came. Stomping his feet hard on the floorboard beneath him, he cursed, "Damn!"

 

Although still reeling from the effects of that very potent potion, Duncan struggled to fight it off. It was a losing battle, however. Aside from being so damnably hot, every inch of his body seemed to have become sensitized to an excruciating degree. The scratch of the soft fabric of his clothes against his skin was unbearable. Worse, he was so damned horny.

The concubine stumbled in the center of a tiny copse of trees. Clutching his fevered temples, his head seemed to throb incessantly and his surroundings whirled around and around. When strong arms grabbed him, all coherent thought flew away.

Smiling stupidly at the dim figure holding him, Duncan mumbled, "Why, hello, Adam! Fancy meeting you out here! It's so hot, isn't it? Hold on a minute while I take off my clothes. And then we could fuck to our hearts' content."

 

There was a lewd grin on the hooded man's face as he watched Shinno drunkenly peel off his caftan. In his eagerness to sample the Easterner's wares, he decided to give the younger man his willing and able assist. As he did so, their bodies made contact.

Glancing down at the other man's groin, Shinno giggled, "Adam, always the impatient one!" Grinding his crotch against that hardened member, he slurred, "To hell with my father and celibacy, Methos. Fuck me now!"

The hooded man couldn't understand the young warrior's first sentence, but he had heard those last three forceful words. He was only happy to oblige.

Enfolding Shinno in his embrace, the hooded man crushed his hard mouth against those soft lips, and gently pushed the Easterner down to the moss-covered ground. To his credit, Shinno returned his kisses with equal passion.

Jerking the caftan down to the younger Immortal's elbows, the hooded man descended to those tiny protuberances on the Easterner's chest. The minute he drew in that nipple with one hard swallow, at once, sweet milk flooded into his mouth. That honeyed nectar from Shinno's tits only served to whet his appetite even more.

As he suckled on that nipple, the hooded man untied the drawstring of the warrior's trousers and yanked them down.

"Oh God! Yes!" he heard Shinno gasped, the younger man arching his body, as the hooded man's blunt fingertips drummed at his rosebud opening. He was about to sheath himself completely into the Easterner's body.

"Shinno! SHINNO!"

The hooded man snarled in frustration, hearing Adam's desperate cries. He glanced down at the young Immortal, who had fallen into the restless sleep of the ill.

Capturing those lips one last time, he muttered, "I'll be back for you, my beauty." Before his presence could be discovered, the hooded man fled deep into the woods.

 

"Are ye sure he went this way, Methos?" asked Donal worriedly.

"That's one of the perks of Immortality," the Ancient answered, his face grim. "You could sense if another Immortal is close by, and I did feel a presence. But it seems...weak and...."

Methos pushed through the bushes and gasped in shock at the sight of the concubine, lying in an appalling state of deshabille, his body bared to anyone who would dare to abuse him.

Dread filled the Ancient's heart at that thought. Had someone....

Frozen where he stood, Methos jumped when Donal suddenly pushed past him..

"Sweet Jesus, no!" the Scot cried out in horror. "No' ma nephew!"

Rushing to the whoremaster's side, Donal cradled his beloved nephew in his arms. Methos fell to his knees as well, lifting his lamp so that he could examine Duncan's body. His face grew as dark as the night at the sight of the imprints of fingers on his body and thighs as well as the red marks of lips around his nipples. Already, he feared the worst, but not wanting to explore his lover's nether region.

It was Donal who performed this uncomfortable task for him, dipping a trembling hand between his nephew's thighs. The elder Highlander breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank ye, Lord!" Donal exclaimed to his God in heaven. "Ye 'ave preserved him!"

"Are you sure, Donal?" Methos had to be certain.

"Dinna doubt it, Methos. True, ye Immortals heal quickly, but it will no' remove the traces of a man's seed, and I found none on Duncan's body."

The Ancient breathed in deeply. "I guess this means we came just in time."

"But there's still somethin' tha' troublin' me." Donal laid his hand over the whoremaster's brow. "He's burning with a fever. Shouldn't yer healing powers be able ta cure somethin' like this?"

"Yes, it should, but whatever it was that was given to him, it seemed too strong for our healing gifts to counteract at once."

"Who wad do this ta him?"

Methos remembered the smirks on the faces of Robert and Debra. "I think I have an idea who."

Donal knew instantly who the Ancient was talking about. "Unfortunately, we do no' have any proof ta pin on those two."

"They'll make a mistake one of these days, Donal. And when that times come, there'll be hell to pay." Methos buttoned up the sick concubine's clothes. "We must be getting back. Everyone might be worried."

Donal nodded in agreement. "Aye! Ian was beside himself with concern."

"Strange, isn't it, that it's Ian's heart that knows the son, even if his mind does not yet see the truth."

"He'll know the truth when tha' time comes. I just hope tha' he won't hurt Duncan again the way he had twenty-five years ago." Donal wrapped up the whoremaster's chilled form in his wolf skin cloak. Lifting Duncan up in his arms, he swore, "I will no' let him do tha' again ta my dearest nephew. I will no' permit tha' he be banished for a second time."

"I hope so, Donal," Methos said thoughtfully, gazing at his lover's troubled face. "I really do hope so."


	12. Chapter 61

 

**CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE**

 

When the two men arrived at the keep, everyone was waiting for them. To their relief, no one mentioned about the concubine's scandalous behavior in the Main Hall. All expressed their concern for Duncan, especially when Donl revealed to them that the so-called Easterner may have "brain fever".

It was Ian who was in a stricken state, even going so far as to take the delirious young man from his brother. Seeing how the father cradled and hugged his sick son, Methos couldn't help but smile tenderly. However, the greatest shock was yet to come.

The Chieftain had roared, "Summon the village healer at once! Rouse him from his bed if necessary! Shinno must be tended to immediately!"

Before any man could obey, a stronger voice declared from the stairway, "Nay! Take Shinno up to my chamber, an' I will care for him myself."

All whirled to find Mary MacLeod standing at the top of the staircase, with Moeru and Chester on either side of her.

"Mary," Ian began patiently, "I will 'ave the healer take care o' Shinno. Ye are no' well enough to tend ta an ill young man."

"It does not take a lot o' effort ta care for the sick, especially if the ill one is also the same young man who had cared for me when I was sick. Nay, husband! No healer! Let me repay my debt to Shinno by caring for him."

It's been twenty-five years since the Chieftain had never heard his beloved wife sound so determined. He knew better than to argue with her while she was in this state of mind. Instead, he nodded his acquiescence. Barking a few dismissal orders to his men, it was Ian himself who carried his son up to his wife's chamber, with Methos and Donal following at his heels.

Donal, at one point, nudged the Ancient, pouting up at the Chieftain, a twinkle of merriment in his eyes. Methos understood the Scot's happiness for he himself had noticed it much earlier -- that Duncan, like a wee child, had wrapped his arms around his father's brawny neck, his cheek pressed to the elder MacLeod's soft beard. Ian himself was whispering soothing words in the whoremaster's ear.

Reaching Mary's chamber at last, Ian laid Duncan down on her bed. Sitting on the table beside her bed were a basin of water and a wash cloth. Moeru and Chester even went so far as to retrieve their young master's medical kit from the dresser top.

As Mary went about removing the concubine's sweat-sodden clothes, she told the men, "Ye may leave us now."

"My Lady," Methos began to suggest, "let me stay and help you. I have experience in the healing arts myself."

But she simply smiled at him in reassurance. "He's in good hands, Adam. Please let me take care o' him."

The Ancient was about to argue when a hand was laid on his shoulder. Turning, he beheld Ian's smiling face. The Chieftain shook his head. Despite his apprehensions, he had to bow down to a mother's love. With a word to just call if she had need of them, the three men quietly left the chamber, closing the door with a soft squeak.

When they were gone, Moeru and Chester leaped onto the bed. The dachshund licked his Master's hot brow while Moeru fanned him with his flapping tail.

As Mary gave her patient a sip of medicine, she asked the babies, "You love Shinno very much, don't you."

The younglings answered with an exuberant nod and a jingle of their coin purses.

To their surprise, Duncan mumbled deliriously, "Must look at those coin purses...give that damned cock a decent burial."

Mary laughed, seeing the sagging faced expression on the babies. Oh, little ones! Ye know how sick people tend ta babble like idiots when they're fevered."

Moeru and Chester sighed in relief. They thought that the matter of the coin purses would be brought up once more.

When she had at last removed Duncan's clothes and was washing his warm body, however, Mary gave the younglings a curious glance.

"I've been meanin' ta ask ye this myself, children," she slowly started to say, measuring her words. "But wha' are yer coin purses made from? May I have a look?"

A delighted giggle flew from Mary's lips as Moeru and Chester jumped down from the bed and made a hasty exit from the chamber.

Her patient again muttered, "There they go again...will never get a look at those damned coin purses."

Smiling, Mary brushed away the strands of hair that fell on his forehead. "Dinna bother yerself too much abou' it, Shinno. The babies will come back, ye'll see, an' ye'll have a chance ta inspect those wee purses around their necks."

A mere ten minutes had passed when the door creaked open a crack, and Moeru and Chester crept inside. Mary, who was knitting a scarf for the man whom she believed to be Shinno, pretended not to notice their sneaky entrance. Carefully, the midget horse and the dachshund jumped on the bed and snuggled up to the concubine. Soon, the younglings were snoring quietly.

A smile curled up the corners of her lips, her heart warmed by that show of devotion. Mary was about to return to her knitting, but those gentle snores proved to be contagious. Before she even realized it, she had set down her needles and the scarf on her lap and nodded off.

It was close to midnight when Mary was awakened by a soft light that penetrated her closed eyelids. Opening her eyes, she beheld a most astounding sight.

There were three men inside her chamber. The first, clearly an Easterner from his flowing garments and turban, simply stood on the other side of the bed, watching over the figure lying on the bed. The second man was closely inspecting the coin purse around Chester's neck. Somehow, this hulking warrior was very familiar to her. The third man sat on the bed, his eyes moving in jerks from side to side. His left hand played with the tufts of hair on Moeru's brow, while his right caressed the forehead of the sweating, twitching figure on the bed.

Noticing her attention on them, the three men turned to look at her and smiled.

In unison, they spoke, "He needs you, my Lady." Then, right before Mary's startled eyes, they transformed into three balls of light, which entered Shinno's breast.

The moan of the young man on the bed caused her to rise at once from her seat. Mary was dismayed to find the whoremaster tossing and turning, rumpling the sweat-soaked sheets beneath him. Feeling his forehead, she found that he was burning up with fever once more.

Mary was about dip the wash cloth in the basin when Shinno's hand suddenly gripped her wrist.

"'Tis all right, Shinno," she whispered soothingly, caressing his brow. "Ye're going to be fine once I give ye the medicine."

"Mama?"

The concubine's sob jolted through Mary's being. There was something about that heartbreaking cry. Her clammy hand was pressed to that satin cheek, moistened with tears. With that troubled expression on his face, Shinno looked just like a child. Just like that little boy she had loved and lost twenty-five years ago.

What Shinno said next was like an arrow that pierced her heart.

"Mama, why is Papa sendin' me away? Wha' did I do wrong?" Shinno wept bitterly, the brogue heavy in his voice. "I had ta save him, Mama. They were hurtin' him so badly. I had to do somethin'. Isn't tha' what clan chieftains are supposed ta do -- protect his people? But why is Papa so angry with me? Why did he hit me? Mama, why is everyone laughin' at me an' callin' me a whore?"

At that last plaintive query, Mary was no longer able to hold back the flood of emotions inside her heart. Bursting into tears, she pulled the young man into her tight embrace. Instinctively, Shinno's arms enfolded her as well.

With firm resolve, the Lady of the Keep repeated those same words that she had said on that fateful day that her mind and heart had been torn asunder.

"Ye are my son! Never forget that!" Mary said strongly, kissing the concubine's cheeks again and again. "Ye are Duncan MacLeod o' the Clan MacLeod!"

 

Unable to sleep, Ian decided to check on his wife and guest. When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Mary sleeping on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around Shinno. To the Chieftain, they looked so much like that first time when it was his wife who had been ill and the Easterner her healer. Like mother and son.

Again, Ian felt that unexplainable pang of regret, and the strong urge to join his wife and the warrior on that same bed, to pull them all into his comforting embrace. Quietly, he closed the door instead, not desiring to hear the next words that he knew the whoremaster was going to say. But before the door could squeeze shut, Ian still heard them just the same, and he felt tears form in his eyes.

Four small words that meant a lot to a father who was, in truth, pining for his lost little boy.

"I love you, Papa."

 

It was not until mid-morning of the next day that the Lord of the Keep ventured back to his wife's chamber. At first, he hesitated at the door, but when he heard voices inside he found the will to enter.

At once, Ian was greeted by silence, the suddenness of its descent something which startled him. Methos and Donal, however, gave him a reassuring smile. But what surprised him was Mary's reaction to his abrupt entrance. His dear wife had flung her arms around Shinno's neck, pulling the young man close as if to protect him. The Easterner, on the other hand, was eyeing him warily. Because of his pallor, it gave his handsome features a disturbing haunted expression, like that seen in frightened animals.

Donal was mumbling, "Shinno is goin' ta be fine, Ian. The brain fever has passed," when Shinno eased himself gently out of the Lady's grasp. To everyone's shock, he carefully slipped down from the bed, sagging in a bent heap at Ian's feet.

Weak, the concubine let out a remorseful sob. "I'm so sorry, my Lord. I was told that I had acted abominably last night. It was not my desire to bring dishonor to your clan. Once I am well, Adam and I shall leave here. I cannot endure the shame that I had caused you."

It was Mary who spoke out strongly. "Leave? NAY! That is the last thing ye are goin' ta do! I will no' permit ye ta leave!" She faced her husband, her eyes firm, daring him to contradict her words. "Husband, Shinno acted the way he had because o' the fever. 'Tis no' his fault!"

Rather than speak, Ian bent down and picked up a startled Shinno, laying him on the bed once more.

Seeing the questioning look in the concubine's eyes, the Chieftain simply smiled and said, "I know 'tis no' his fault, Mary." In a surprising gesture, Ian tapped the tip of the young man's nose with his finger. "Ye an' Adam are no' goin' anywhere, Laddie." As they all gazed at the Lord of the Keep, Ian sauntered toward the door. Pausing with his hand on the latch, he gave them a mischievous wink. "Shinno, ma boy! Ye are one mighty fine dancer!"

Without saying another word, Ian strode out of the room, not noticing that the Easterner had raised his hand in yearning to him.

"Papa..." Mary heard her dear son say softly.

 

Methos and Donal had been observing the reactions of the parents, most especially that of Mary's. Her sudden protectiveness over Duncan's welfare, the way she had strongly embraced the concubine... They had a nagging suspicion that Mary had already discovered Shinno's true identity.

Unknown to the two men, Mary was actually planning to confront them about this matter. However, when she saw the stricken expression on Duncan's face when he saw his father and the way he had prostrated himself at Ian's feet, she suddenly realized the danger to his being. And she was not about to lose her precious son again.

Their reverie was broken by a plaintive voice. "I'm sorry. I cause so much trouble. It would be best for all if I left."

"Nonsense, child," Mary rubbed his back soothingly. "Ye were ill. Ian understands tha'."

 

"But, my Lady," Duncan argued in earnest. "What I did was most scandalous. I fear I might have ruined the reputation of your clan."

"Listen to me, Shinno," Donal put in firmly. "At one point in our lives, we would've done somethin' tha' we're truly ashamed of. But we must bounce back from it an' prove our worth once more. Ye did no' act willfully, because ye were ill. An' e'en if ye did do it deliberately." The elder Highlander grinned in reassurance. "I know ye well enough ta know tha' ye only 'ave the best intentions. I'm sure ye know wha' I mean."

"But Donal..."

"No more arguments from you, young man. Donal is right. Ye should no think o' what the others wad say." Mary reached out and caressed the concubine's flushed cheek. "Shinno, child. Ye 'ave a good heart, the heart o' a true warrior. Let no one convince ye otherwise." Turning to her brother-in-law, she invited, "Come, Donal! I think Shinno wad like ta be alone with Adam for awhile."

Nodding, Donal stood up and took Mary's hand.

"I'll be back in an hour," she told the whoremaster with a gentle smile and allowed Donal to escort her out of the chamber.

When they were finally alone, Duncan could hardly look at his lover. "I didn't just make a fool of myself, did I? Don't lie to me, Adam. I still feel..." Self-consciously, he pulled the lapel of his robe close.

"Well," Methos reluctantly began, "you certainly proved to be a temptation for me and..."

"And?"

"Shinno, don't you remember what happened to you in the woods?"

The concubine shook his head. "I don't remember anything at all. Everything is all a blur to me. Why are you asking me..." Fear was suddenly reflected in those pretty doe eyes. "No!" he gasped out, his hands flying to his chest. "Please tell me I wasn't..."

"Donal said that you weren't. Whoever it was, and I think it was the hooded man, he wasn't able to get far with his base intentions."

Duncan eyed the elder Immortal warily. "What about you? What do you think?"

Rather than lie, the Ancient admitted, "He may not have had his way with you, but he did touch you. The marks of his mouth and hands were all over your body."

Hearing this, the whoremaster shuddered, becoming a full-blown tremor. Methos embraced his lover to still the quaking of his body.

Letting out a nervous laugh, Duncan commented, "One would think I should be used to this by now. After all, I spent nearly twenty-five years of my life as a whore."

"But you're not a whore now, that's why I intend to find the bastard who did this to you," the Ancient said in firm determination. "You can also add those two clansmen of yours who are in league with him."

"Robert and Debra again?" The whoremaster groaned. "I should've known they were behind this."

The former Horseman scowled darkly. "I thought you would succeed in putting them in their places. I never thought they'd retaliate so soon and in such a foul manner. All the more reason for us to be on our guard. There's not telling what they might do next."

Duncan's hands clenched into fists. "I should've killed Robert when I had the chance earlier."

"That would've been a good idea if your father were not around. The best thing to do is to expose him and Debra for the traitors they truly are. We also must find out who that hooded man is."

"I don't like this. I don't like it at all." The concubine shook his head, forlorn. "There are too many lives at stake. It would've been just fine if I were the only target, but I also have my parents, my uncle, the whole clan to consider."

"Don't say that! Do you think I would allow you to become a sacrificial lamb again? That time with the Odalisk was the last!"

"But, Methos..."

"No, buts!" Methos hugged the younger man tightly. "They'd have to go through my dead body before I'd let them get to you!"

Easing the concubine away a bit, the Horseman gave his beloved a passionate kiss, which Duncan returned with equal ardor.

As they parted, the whoremaster whispered, "I don't want you to die for me, Methos. I pray that we find a way to solve this dilemma, and very soon."

"We will, Love. We will. I promise you that."

Duncan giggled, feeling Methos' erection prodding at his own wakening member. "Looks like the potion is still at work. Perhaps we should arrange a little private tryst sometime. Maybe that could prevent the effects of any aphrodisiacs that Debra might attempt to put in my drinks."

The Ancient grinned at that suggestion. "What about your father?"

"You can forget about my father."

"Well, at least you still have your mother's love." Methos winked at the younger man. "I could see for myself how much you enjoyed being pampered by Mary last night."

The concubine blushed at that comment. "Aye! There is nothing like a mother's gentle loving care to cure all ills. But then again, even mothers could only do so much for their sons." Duncan laid a gentle hand on Methos' marble white cheek. "God, I missed you so much, Methos."

"And I missed you, my Love."

At these words, the two men kissed once more, abandoning themselves to the cries of their lonely hearts.

In their desire for each other, none of them noticed the startled pair of eyes that watched them from the crack of the door that Donal had failed to close fully. Slowly, that door closed once more and the intruder sped down the stairs in search of her fiance.

 

Robert MacLeod was ambling along in the hallway, smugly content by the embarrassment he had caused that damned Easterner to commit. Up to now, he could still remember vividly that most shameful dance and the way Shinno had nearly come close to shedding his clothes before the shocked eyes of all. Recalling how the young man had fled from the Main Hall, he wondered if his mysterious comrade in treachery was able to have his way with the hated warrior.

The Scot was jolted out of his musings by an iron hand that grabbed him by the throat and yanked him into a small corridor. His eyes flew wide at the sight of the blade posed over his neck.

"I am not a very forgiving man, Robert MacLeod," Adam hissed in his face. "I know you and that bitch you call your fiancee were the ones behind that...scene...last night."

"Ye 'ave no proof," Robert rebutted. "Haven't ye e'er thought tha' perhaps yer fellow warrior is a whore to the core o' his being? He merely showed his true colors last night a' the banquet hall."

A sweeping slash of the sword at the side of his neck drew blood. "Let this serve as a reminder to you, Robert," the warrior murmured threateningly in his ear. "From now on, I'll always be watching you. If anything should happen to Shinno, I swear it. Proof or no proof, I will kill you and Debra. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ye do no' frighten me!"

Adam pushed Robert against the wall, laying the tip of his sword over the Scot's heart. "Don't be a fool, Robert MacLeod! You have no idea who you're dealing with!" Grinning evilly, he said, "Do not tempt me! Or else you will find yourself facing the one thing you fear the most!"

"An' what's tha?" Robert spat back.

Suddenly, Adam twirled his blade. The Scot instinctively raised his hands to shield his head, but no fatal blow came. Looking down at himself, he saw that the warrior had slashed his shirt, revealing the bloody slashes beneath.

With much ceremony, Adam sheathed his sword, first wiping the blood on his cloak in disgust. "Death, Robert MacLeod. I am the warrior who is also known as Death."

Saying this, the warrior stormed away, leaving a furious Robert behind to glower at him.

It was at that moment that Debra appeared. Seeing the state of her lover, she asked in horror, "Wha' happened ta ye?"

"Adam," Robert spoke the name in utter abhorrence. "He thought he wad frighten me with his threats."

"An', indeed, ye should no be afraid," Debra said with wicked glee. "No' when we 'ave them right in the palms o' our hands."

Robert frowned at that remark. "Wha' the hell are ye blitherin' on abou', woman?"

"We now hold the key ta their destruction, Robert," Debra declared firmly. "Come! We must talk ta our friend abou' this. Let me tell ye both wha' I have seen. But I swear ta ye this, my Love. Give me time, an' not only shall we have Glenfinnan, we shall have the heads o' those Easterners who dared ta go against us. Especially tha' whore, Shinno!"

 

 

**UNFINISHED**


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